#sending hateful messages to people is never the answer

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Blood singer, part 11

Summary: Y/N gets the answers she's seeking, and a little taste of all she's been wishing for.

Warnings (be mindful of your triggers): injury, blood and death, angst, fluff, grief, swearing, sexual content, mentions of mental health struggles, alcohol, eating disorder, mentions of a period

Pairing: Jasper Hale x human!reader (blood singer), Paul Lahote x human!reader

Word count: 10.8k

Blood singer - Series Masterlist

Three days.

It’s been three days since she last saw Jasper. Three days without a text, without his voice and that gentle, comforting presence he infects her with in every glance, every touch.

She turns her head, staring at her phone like it’s personally betrayed her. No calls. No missed messages. Not even a photo to hold onto.

Not one photo.

In all the time they’ve spent together, in all the stolen moments and whispered promises, they never once thought to take a picture. To capture a moment, any moment really. So now, when she needs to see him most, she has nothing. Nothing but the silence and the sick ache of missing him.

Her fingers curl into the blanket, pulling it up to her chest. It’s not fair. It’s just not fair.  And in that unfairness, she can’t help the darkness slipping past her defenses. It’s anger. Anger at herself, at him, at everyone.

She didn’t realize how deep the questions had rooted themselves until they started festering. Until Kim’s words echoed in her mind again and again, repeating like a broken record, unrelenting.

“Because you didn’t know what to ask. And he knew that. But he didn’t offer anything either. And you’re allowed to be angry about that.”

She bites her lower lip hard enough to crack skin, feeling the metallic taste of her own blood. She hates that it’s true and Kim’s right. They all are, because the more people talk, the more she realizes just how little she knows. And she’s supposed to be his mate? Then why is it everyone else seems to know Jasper better than she ever could?

Alice. The Volturi. The newborn army. Bella’s pregnancy. All of it. It’s not just these secrets, it’s a whole damn life he never shared. And she tells herself she’ll bring it up. That next time he walks through the door, she won’t let him sweep her off her feet, not until she has her answers. But deep down, she knows she’ll crumble the moment he touches her. She always does.

The second his fingers brush her cheek, the fight will leave her body. She’ll become weightless, pliable, completely ruined in his embrace. She won’t care what she doesn’t know, not when he’s touching her, not when he’s holding her like she’s the only thing keeping him alive.

Jasper is a weakness. A beautiful, terrifying weakness she can’t fight.

So, she reaches for her phone. She doesn’t text to tell him she loves him. Or to say how much she misses him. No. Not this time.

She types questions, accusing in their bluntness. Her thumbs move quickly, the words tumbling out in a flood:

When did you meet Alice? What history do you share with her? Do you love her? What newborn army did you fight? Who are the Volturi? Why is your family on their radar? Why didn’t you tell me about Bella’s pregnancy?

Her heart races the moment the last question is typed. Her thumb hovers over the send button. She doesn’t press it. It’s just a draft, something she can glance at later if he tries to charm his way around it.

She exhales shakily, going to tap “Save as Draft.”

And that’s when her screen lights up. A message from Jasper. Three words.

I miss you.

Somehow the weight on her chest grows. She holds her breath, trying to stifle the forceful rush in her chest, but a sound escapes her, choked out, something between a sob and a sigh. The message is simple, tender, and achingly sincere. Her heart swells and shatters in the same breath.

She fumbles, desperate to reply with something equally heartfelt, something that doesn’t sound needy, but says everything. Her fingers move fast. But in her rush, with her trembling hands, her thumb slips.

Send.

The questions. All of them. Sent!

���Oh my God.”

She stares at the screen in horror. Her face drains of color. She scrambles upright in bed, clutching the phone like it might explode.

“Oh my GOD.”

The panic hits hard as her hands fly to her mouth. She makes a strangled noise, a gasp, a wail as the weight of what she’s done slams into her.

Her stomach twists. Her heart pounds. The room is spinning around her. She’s pacing barefoot on the cold wooden floor, phone clenched in both hands like she could somehow delete the message through sheer will.

“What did I do?” she hisses aloud, barely breathing. Her skin feels hot, then cold with sweat. Shame rises in waves. Her face is burning, her ears ringing louder than her thoughts.

The message wasn’t kind. It wasn’t fair. It was accusatory, even cruel in how sterile the wording is. And now he has it. Now Jasper will read it, and think… She doesn't even know what he’ll think, but her heart is in her throat. Her ribs ache from the force of her quick, shallow breathing.

Please don’t hate me, she thinks, as if he can hear her now.

She walks to the window and presses her forehead against the glass, eyes squeezed shut. Her pulse is everywhere, screaming in her head, in her chest, in her knees. Three days without him, and now she’s ruined everything.

And worst of all, some part of her, some reckless, furious, desperately hurt part of her isn’t sorry she asked. She just wishes it hadn’t happened this way.

And then he’s there. She doesn’t need to look. She always feels him before she sees him.

“Darlin’?”

His voice is soft, confused, tinged with concern. She turns, eyes wide and glassy, chest still rising in sharp, unsteady movements.

Jasper stands by her bedroom door, hair tousled, golden eyes scanning her with worry. He's in the clothes she last saw him in, but they look a little dirtier, a little more rumpled.

He steps forward, then faster when he realizes the full state of her.

“Oh, Darlin’…” he breathes, crossing the room in a blink.

Before she can even register the movement, his arms are wrapping around her from behind, one arm slotted under her chest, the other around her waist, holding her like the only thing keeping her upright. She shudders at the contact, the sound that escapes her throat filled with relief, and maybe a little bit of heartbreak.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay,” he whispers against the side of her head, voice warm. “I feel it too. I felt your panic. You think I’d let you go through that alone?”

His hand comes up, brushing her hair off her face, then sliding gently over her ribcage. She turns in his arms without thinking, needing more of him. Her fingers grab at the fabric at his chest as she buries herself in him, her body trembling.

He presses his cheek against the top of her head, swaying slightly, grounding her with the movement.

“I just got back. I wanted to come see you the moment I was done and I almost did,” he murmurs, voice still playful around the edges, though she can hear how heavy the emotions are underneath it. “But I didn’t wanna risk it. As good as my control is, I didn’t think we should risk it.”

A kiss lands on her temple. Then another. Softer.

“I missed you,” he says, nuzzling her hair. “Three days without you and I’m losing my damn mind. Wrestling bears in the woods like it’ll keep my thoughts off you.”

She lets out a half-choked laugh into his chest, fingers curling tighter into his shirt.

“Wait… did you actually fight a bear and win?” she mumbles, voice muffled.

“Well,” he says, smiling into her hair, “depends who you ask. I say it was a fair fight. Carlisle says I was bein’ dramatic. Bear says I talk too much.”

She laughs again, weaker this time, but real.

“I thought maybe you replaced me with the poster boy from Heroes,” he says with a grin, pulling back just enough to look her in the eye, his arms still circling her. “What was his name? Peter Petrelli?”

Y/N blinks, snorts, then shoves him half-heartedly.

“I would never,” she says, voice shaking but steadier now.

“I know. But it would’ve been a low blow if you ditched me for a guy who steals powers, Darlin’.” He dips his head a little, his forehead touching hers. “Tell me you missed me too. Lie if you have to.”

She exhales, lips trembling. “I missed you so bad I forgot how to breathe.”

His expression softens further, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks. He rests his lips on her forehead for a long moment, then slowly guides her to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Still silent, Jasper kneels in front of her, hands cradling hers gently like he’s afraid they’ll break. He doesn’t speak at first, just looks up at her, his expression open and clear.

Then, as she watches, he bends his head and presses a slow, lingering kiss to each of her knuckles. One after the other.

“I’m not mad about the questions,” he says quietly, voice low and careful. “I should’ve told you things. You deserved to know them without having to pull teeth to get them.”

She looks at him, her eyes glassy again, but the panic has ebbed, replaced with a quiet ache in her chest.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he continues, fingers gliding gently over hers. “You’re allowed to ask. Hell, you should ask. You think I wouldn’t if the roles were flipped?”

Her silence is answer enough.

He tilts his head, gazing up at her like she’s the only thing that matters. “I felt your panic like it was my own. I was on the cliffs when it hit me. My chest just locked up.”

She holds her breath, afraid it would stop his admission.

“I’ve never felt your emotions from so far away before,” he adds, his thumb sweeping the back of her hand. “So I knew you needed me. Didn’t even hesitate.”

“I thought you’d hate me for being pushy about it,” she admits, her voice small, uncertain.

Jasper’s expression doesn’t falter. If anything, his brows furrow deeper, not in anger, but in pain. He lifts her hands again, presses his lips to her fingertips this time.

“Hate you?” he echoes. “You could set me on fire, and I’d still ask if you needed another match.”

That draws a fragile, wet laugh from her lips.

He smiles too, wider now, pleased he’s making headway. “’Besides, your scent’s all but a comfort to me now. You think I’d show up during your period and touch you if I was still fightin’ to keep my teeth to myself?”

She shakes her head slowly, the realization settling in. He’s calm. Clear. Not even a flicker of hunger in his eyes, only warmth, only her.

“I missed you every second,” he murmurs, rising just enough to kiss the inside of her wrist. “And not just your scent that’s drawing me to you. I missed your voice. Your laugh. The way you make dinner and forget it in the oven. The way you talk in your sleep and always kick the blankets off your feet.”

She blushes, lips parting. “I do not.”

“You do,” he grins. “It’s adorable.”

He crawls up beside her on the bed now, arm draping around her shoulders, pulling her close. Her head falls easily against his chest. Jasper’s hold on her tightens slightly, just enough for her to feel the tremor beneath his stillness.

They sit like that for a long moment, her head on his chest, his chin resting on the top of her head, the two of them breathing quietly, enjoying the silence. But her heart hasn’t stopped racing. The words she’s held in for too long are still there, trembling on the edge of her tongue, begging to be freed.

Her fingers shift where they rest on his chest, sliding under the open edge of his shirt, touching the place just above his silent heart. The weight of his past is lodged between them, invisible but suffocating, and her lips part.

"You never told me what she means to you," she says quietly, barely a whisper, but he stiffens all the same. Her voice wavers. "When I would visit Forks, I remember the rumors about you and Alice being a couple. I’ve even seen you two at Bella and Edward’s wedding.”

Jasper doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. His jaw is tight, but his eyes are full of guilt.

“I..." she swallows thickly, sitting up just enough to look at him. "I don’t want to be second best. I don’t want to give you my heart if I’m just a placeholder for you.”

Her voice breaks at the end, and even though she tries to pull back, he doesn't let her. His hand moves to her cheek, anchoring her there. His eyes are golden, glowing with more emotion than she’s ever seen in them.

“Y/N,” he says firmly. “You are never second best.”

His voice is steady. Absolute.

“You’re my first and only choice.” He brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering along her jaw. “I loved Alice, I won’t lie to you about that. She was my friend. My family. And for a time, we were a lot more. I still love her.”

Her eyes begin to brim with tears again.

“But I’m not in love with her,” he says, his voice unwavering. “I haven’t been for a long time. What we had ended years before I ever laid eyes on you. Before I ever felt you.”

She inhales shakily. “So then why...?” Her voice rises slightly, raw with hurt. “Why do you keep me at a distance? Why don’t you ever just let me all the way in? I’ve shown you the worst of me, but you hold your past back and I don’t understand why. Didn’t I prove I’d stay regardless how dark it gets?”

Jasper is stricken with her words, his hands gripping hers tighter now. His voice softens to something barely above a murmur.

“I’m worried about overwhelming you,” he admits. “But you’re right. You deserve more.” He leans forward, pressing their foreheads together again. “I’ve been a coward, trying to protect you from the weight of my past. But I see now that protecting you isn’t about hiding myself. Not if it makes you feel like you’re on the outside looking in.”

She says nothing, her gaze chained to his with unwavering attention.

“I’ll tell you everything,” he promises. “Start to finish. Because I never want you to think you’re not my priority ever again. You are everything. Everything to me. I love you. I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known you, and you have me. Unbeating heart and damned soul. If you’ll have me, it’s all yours.”

She swallows thickly, and he feels the way she softens, the way she leans into the words like they’re the first real warmth she’s felt in days.

“Okay,” she whispers. “But please remember that I don’t want a curated version of you,” she says, voice trembling. “I want you. The whole, messy, complicated you.”

And so, Jasper speaks. He speaks for hours.

They curl into the bed together, her legs tangled with his, her head resting against his chest while he threads his fingers through her hair and tells her everything. His voice never falters. He tells her about his time in the army once he was turned. He doesn’t hide the gore, the choices he made that colored the streets red, the brutal years spent building and training newborn armies. He talks about the bloodshed, the way the memories haunt him, and how Peter, his friend and brother in arms was the one who helped him escape.

He speaks of Alice, how she found him when he was barely hanging on to sanity, how she offered him hope, a vision of something better. He tells Y/N how they tried, and how for the longest time it felt like he was right where he’s meant to be. But it didn’t last, because Alice saw something in a vision…someone, and realized that her role in his life was never meant to be forever.

“She saw you,” Jasper says softly, brushing a knuckle under Y/N’s chin. “Long before you and I ever met, she saw you. And she loved me enough to let me go.”

Y/N is crying now, quiet tears sliding down her cheeks. He kisses them away between stories, never stopping.

He tells her about the Cullen family, about the Volturi’s threats, the newborn army that came for them, about the chaos surrounding Bella’s pregnancy, Renesmee’s birth. He tells her about fighting for his life and the lives of those he loves, promising he’d fight for her if it ever came down to that too.

He holds nothing back except one thing. One truth stays locked inside his mind.

He doesn’t tell her that they met once before. That on that night he cornered her in a dark alley, he lost control. Or how she smelled so devastatingly sweet, so perfect, he lunged before he could think and barely managed to stop himself. That Edward had to erase it from her mind. That he’s carried the shame of it like a brand ever since.

He wants to tell her. But he doesn’t. Not yet. Not when she’s finally looking at him with trust in her eyes. Instead, he holds her. Murmurs reassurances between kisses to her hair and temple. Wraps her up like she’s breakable, precious.

And Y/N, overwhelmed but relieved, finally speaks.

“I want you to know I love you too,” she whispers. “All of you. Even the parts that scare you.”

Jasper presses a kiss to her lips, gentle and sweet. “You have me,” he murmurs. “All of me.”

The room has gone quiet again, a comfortable hush layered in the aftermath of all Jasper’s confessions. Y/N is still curled into his side, legs tangled with his under the blanket, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the line of muscle along his stomach where his shirt has ridden up. The silence is warm now, thick with things unspoken but not heavy.

Still, something tugs at him. That scent; salt and pine. Familiar and unwelcome. It clings faintly to her skin, sharper than her usual scent.

Jasper shifts, not enough to pull away, just enough to study her face better, fingers brushing back the wisps of hair falling across her cheek. He presses a soft kiss there, lets it linger longer than necessary.

“You smell different tonight,” he says casually, nuzzling the curve of her neck. “Like… the ocean breeze.” His lips brush her jaw as he adds, “And the forest after it rains.”

She hums, amused, but doesn’t answer. Just slides her hand higher along his side, smoothing up his ribcage. “That a compliment or are you trying to tell me I stink?”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s not unpleasant,” he says, light as air, “just... not you. Not entirely.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I took a detour through the woods and bathed in seafoam.”

He chuckles, low and playful. “Mm. Must’ve stopped to roll in it too, darlin’. You’ve got traces of wolf on you.”

Y/N stiffens just slightly, barely perceptible to most, but Jasper feels the tension ripple through her body like a current.

“A wolf?” she echoes, trying to keep her voice casual. “Like… an actual one?”

Jasper’s hand moves to her lower back, slow, deliberate. He draws idle circles there with the pad of his thumb. “No,” he says, feigning thoughtfulness. “More like… a wet dog. A big one. Who’s known to run with no shirt and way too much bravado.”

She snorts. “Wow. You’re getting weirdly specific.”

He smiles, but there’s a sharpness to it now. “Did you, by any chance, hug a certain someone from La Push recently?”

Y/N shifts, eyes narrowing as she props herself up on an elbow. “Is that your roundabout way of asking if I saw Paul?”

He lifts a brow, “Did you?”

“Maybe,” she replies, deliberately vague. “Why?”

Jasper’s fingers trail up her spine now, slow and feather light. “Just curious. You smell like him.” He leans closer, murmurs near her ear. “And I don’t like it.”

Y/N laughs, turning her head so their noses almost brush. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” he says far too quickly.

She smirks.

He kisses her before she can push further, a soft press of lips that deepens quickly, hungrily, betraying the possessiveness simmering just beneath his calm. When he pulls back, their foreheads rest together, breath mingling.

“I just think,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “that if a girl smells like another man, the man she comes home to has a right to know why.”

Her smile fades into something softer, more sincere. “We didn’t do anything, Jasper. I promise. I hadn’t seen since the hospital and I didn’t even intend to see him now. It was brief.”

His jaw ticks, just slightly, but he nods. “Okay.”

She cups his face, thumb brushing his cheekbone. “You could’ve just asked me, you know.”

“I didn’t want to come off as insecure,” he admits.

“You didn’t,” she says. “You came off like someone who thinks I rolled in seafoam and dog hair.”

That gets a real laugh out of him. “I don’t like that he still has access to you,” Jasper says quietly, thumb stroking the curve of her hip beneath the blanket. “That he gets to be close enough to leave a trace.”

Her expression softens. “He doesn’t have my heart. You do.”

He leans in, pressing a kiss just beneath her ear. “I know. But I’m not used to... feeling this much. Wanting this much. It’s hard not to guard it.”

“I’m not a possession you have to protect,” she says, hands framing his face now. “I’m a choice you get to keep making.”

He kisses her again, slower this time. Devouring the traces of Paul’s scent from her lips, her neck, her skin.

“I’ll always choose you,” he whispers. “Even when I’m being petty and sniffing you like a jealous bloodhound.”

She bursts out laughing, collapsing into his chest. “God, you’re the worst.”

“And yet, you keep coming back,” he drawls, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her flush against him.

She rests her cheek over his chest again, sighing contentedly. “Yeah. I do.”

And for now, that’s enough. Even if Paul’s scent lingers a little longer, Jasper clings to the truth in her voice. To the way she’s curled into him like she belongs there. Because she does. Because she’s his.

Y/N traces the edge of Jasper’s collar with her fingertip, letting it dip just slightly beneath the fabric. She can feel his stillness, the way every part of him is trained on her, like he’s memorizing the weight of her hand, the sound of her breathing, the shape of her mouth just before she speaks.

“I love kissing you,” she says, the words shy but certain, barely more than a breath against his lips.

His golden eyes soften, gaze darkening with something deeper. “Yeah?” he murmurs, voice thick.

She nods, then grins impishly. “Maybe I should hang around Paul more often if this is the punishment.”

Jasper’s jaw drops in mock offense, hand flying dramatically to his chest. “Don’t you dare!”

She giggles, the sound lighting him up from the inside, cracking through the tension he’s been holding. He catches her laughter with his mouth, kissing her again, but this time it’s different. Hungrier. Less careful.

He tastes like honey and her favorite ice cream, like something she could drown in if she let herself. Her lips part under his and he groans lowly, just once, letting her relish in the sound of a man barely hanging onto control.

Her hand curls into the front of his shirt, clutching, like she needs something to tether herself. He takes the invitation without question, shifting over her so their bodies align, pressing her down into the mattress with the full length of his weight.

His hand finds her waist, cold fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shirt. She gasps at the sudden chill, her skin errupting in goosebumps, but she doesn’t pull away. If anything, she presses into him, arching slightly.

“Sorry,” he whispers, though the smirk on his lips says otherwise. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t,” she murmurs against his mouth, breathless. “Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. His fingers skate up her side, dragging deliberately slow trails of cold fire along her once broken ribs, over the soft skin beneath her bra. She shivers under his touch, her whole body pulsing with desire. Her hands are in his hair now, tangling in those soft blond curls, pulling him desperately closer, deeper.

Jasper groans again when she kisses him back harder, her tongue brushing his, her teeth grazing his lower lip. She can’t bite him, she realizes. His lips are too hard to bite even if she wants to and he’s losing control. Jasper can feel it too, and still, he holds back. Just barely.

He shifts again, this time pressing his hips more firmly into hers, and she feels his bulge now. One hand slides down to cup the curve of her ass, gripping it through the thin cotton of her clothes, possessive and needy all at once. He squeezes, and she lets out a soft gasp, nails raking gently across his scalp.

“Damn, darlin’,” he breathes against her mouth. “If I was still alive, you’d be the end of me.”

She laughs, breathless and flushed, but she doesn’t stop kissing him. Her lips move to his jaw, down his neck, her tongue flicking over the smooth marble of his skin. He lets out something close to a growl, one hand fisting the blanket beside her just to keep from letting it all go.

He wants to devour her.

Wants to taste every part of her, her breath, her sweat, the thunderous song of her pulse fluttering against her throat. But he keeps himself tethered to her smile. That’s what he wants more than anything. Her joy. Her safety. Her trust.

So he keeps his pace slow, savoring every second like it’s all he’ll ever get.

She tilts her hips just slightly, chasing the feel of his bulge against her, and he kisses her again, slow and deep, his hand still warm beneath her shirt. She feels like she’s burning up, and his cold touch is the only relief that also somehow makes it worse.

“You’re not real,” she whispers between kisses. “This has to be a dream.”

Jasper kisses her forehead, her cheek, her temple. “Then don’t wake up,” he says, voice hoarse. “Stay with me.”

Her fingers tighten in his hair, anchoring him. “Always.”

And he kisses her like that promise is the only thing keeping his soul intact.

She’s warm, soft and so fragile beneath him, her legs parting to cradle his hips, fingers roaming with no hesitation now, curious and hungry, just like her kisses. Jasper’s hand slides beneath the fabric of her shirt again, this time traveling higher, tracing the curve of her spine, committing her to memory by touch alone.

Y/N arches into him, and he groans low in his throat, an unspoken plea, a warning, a surrender. His restraint is slipping.

Her fingers curl at the hem of his shirt, tugging. “Off,” she breathes, desperate and sure.

He doesn’t hesitate. One arm crosses over his body, and he starts to lift the fabric, but she’s already moving. With a sharp, impatient sound, she yanks the shirt hard. The buttons pop free, clattering onto the floor like broken promises, fabric tearing. She pushes it open, splaying her hands across his chest and down over the ridged lines of his stomach. She’s always wanted to see him like this; wild and aching, the tension in his muscles rippling beneath her palms like restrained thunder.

“You’re perfect,” she whispers, voice filled with awe and desire.

Jasper leans down to kiss her again, slower this time, but deeper. His tongue tangles with hers, tasting her, learning every inch of her mouth. He grinds his hips into her instinctively, and she moans into his mouth, fingers grabbing onto his back.

He groans, and his hands slide beneath her, lifting her off the mattress just slightly so he can run his palms over the backs of her thighs, up to the swell of her ass. He grips her, pulls her tighter against him, swallowing the sound she makes when their bodies align.

Their clothes are still on and it’s maddening.

Then he moves.

In one smooth motion, he catches both of her wrists and pins them above her head, holding her to the mattress. His eyes blaze as he looks down at her, his jaw tense, lips slightly parted. She gasps at the pressure, at the control, but she doesn’t pull away. Her thighs squeeze around his hips, desperate for any fraction, but the pad is getting in the way. Her lips part as his mouth drags down her throat, pressing wet, open kisses to the skin just below her jaw.

Her breathing is ragged. “Jasper -”

A low moan breaks from her as his mouth lingers at the pulsating vessel in her neck. She doesn’t notice the way he freezes, just for a second. The way his whole body goes still except for his mouth hovering at her skin.

The scent is overwhelming. Her blood sings beneath his lips, warm and alive and inviting. His mouth parts, teeth brushing against her skin.

And suddenly he’s choking on it.

The hunger roars to life, violent and immediate and he’s not himself anymore. He’s back in the war, in the feeding frenzy, in a century of blood and need and loss. His grip tightens on her wrists, and she gasps, but not in pleasure this time.

Jasper jerks away from her like he’s been burned. He stumbles back, lips parted, chest heaving though he doesn’t need the air. His eyes flash black for a split second before the gold returns, shame and horror blooming wide in them.

“Jasper?” Her voice is breathless, confused, still dazed. She starts to sit up, shirt askew, lips swollen, her body trembling with leftover want.

But he’s already backing away. “I-I can’t,” he rasps, voice trembling. “I have to go.”

“Wait!” Her brows furrow, her hand reaching out. “What just happened?”

He’s gone before she can finish. One blink, one gust of air, and the room is silent.

Y/N is left there, heart racing, chest rising and falling as her heart screams his name. Her wrists still burn where he held her, her neck tingles where he kissed her, and her whole body aches with an aching need for his touch. She stares at the empty space where he’d just been, lips parted in confusion and something dangerously close to heartbreak.

“…Jasper?” she whispers into the silence.

But there’s no answer.

--

The house is a blur of color and wind as Jasper crashes through the front door, his face filled with desperation and panic. The walls vibrate from the force, his boots skidding across the hardwood as he stumbles to a halt in the foyer, wild eyed and shaking.

He doesn't have to call out, for they’re already there. Carlisle, Edward, and Alice stand before him, waiting as if they knew, as if they felt the moment he nearly lost everything.

Carlisle steps forward instantly, his face calm but he can’t hide his concern. When he speaks his voice gentle. “Jasper.”

“No,” Jasper chokes, staggering back like the word itself might split him open. “Don’t, don’t be kind to me right now. You don’t know what I almost did.”

Alice moves next, her tiny frame unnaturally still, eyes focused on Jasper’s disheveled state. Edward stays silent for a moment, standing just behind them, watching his brother with deep, haunted empathy.

“I almost bit her!” Jasper roars, fingers tangling in his hair, eyes blazing gold, his mind fractured. “I wanted to bite her!”

“You didn’t,” Edward says firmly, voice low and steady.

“But I wanted to!” Jasper snaps, spinning toward him. “She was beneath me, trusting, warm, her blood singing in her veins and I could almost taste her. I was holding her down like a monster, like a goddamn animal!”

His knees hit the floor hard. He doesn’t even feel it.

Carlisle is kneeling beside him in a second, his hand firm on Jasper’s shoulder.

“I knew she was on her period,” Jasper says, nearly gagging on the words. “I knew, and I still touched her. I still let myself get close. What kind of a selfish bastard does that?”

“You’re not selfish,” Carlisle says calmly, though his heart aches for Jasper. “You’re in love.”

“That doesn’t make it right!” Jasper yells, eyes snapping to meet Carlisle’s. “It doesn’t make her safe! I had my mouth on her throat. I felt my teeth drop. I… Carlisle, I saw her blood in my head, I imagined what she’d sound like choking on it, dying. And I wanted it, for a split second. I would’ve done it.”

Alice's voice cuts through the silence, soft but sure. “No. You wouldn’t have.”

He turns toward her, trembling. “You don’t know that.”

“I do.” Her eyes are glassy, but her voice doesn’t falter. “I would’ve seen it. I’ve always seen it. And I didn’t see it because it never would’ve happened. You stopped yourself. You, Jasper! Not me, not Edward, you.”

“I should never have let it get that far.” His voice cracks, low and broken. “She trusts me, and I-I pinned her down like she was prey. She told me she loves kissing me. She was laughing, smiling and I was about to kill her.”

“You love her,” Edward says, finally stepping forward. “You never felt it this strongly before. Never. Not even with Alice. You’re terrified because you care more than you ever have before.”

Jasper squeezes his eyes shut, his voice hoarse. “And that’s exactly why I kept some distance. That’s why I didn’t kiss her or let her too close.”

Carlisle doesn’t let him pull away.

“Jasper,” he says softly, his tone careful, layered with unshakeable calm Jasper has always trusted. “If you were going to hurt her, it would have happened. But you stopped. You chose her life over your desire. You chose restraint. That’s what matters.”

Jasper's eyes burn. “I could’ve ended her life in a second. She was so soft beneath me, she trusted me with every inch of her, Carlisle, and I-I felt what it would be like to break that skin.”

“But you didn’t,” Carlisle says. “You found your line and you stopped.”

Jasper leans forward, trembling hard, and Carlisle wraps an arm around him without hesitation. It’s rare for Jasper to accept comfort like this, to break. But he collapses into it now, into the arms of the man who’s been a father to him in this life.

“I hate myself,” he whispers.

“You don’t get to hate yourself for being in control,” Edward murmurs, replaying the entire memory he’s pulled from Jasper’s mind. “You forget, I saw it all. I felt what you felt. It was…dark. Really dark. But you chose her. Even when everything in you screamed for blood, you chose her.”

Alice steps closer and kneels beside him too, her small hand pressing against his back. “You’re not a monster, Jazz,” she says softly. “You’re in love. And that means you fight harder. For as long as you have to.”

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look up. He allows Edward in his mind again, trusting him to calm the monster inside. He’s flooded with images of Y/N, some real, others fantasy, but she’s rooting him to his humanity, reminding him there’s hope.

--

She lies there for a moment, breathless, lips parted, the ghost of Jasper’s mouth still pressed to hers.

The sheets are rumpled around her thighs. Her shirt is half-off. Her body is still trembling from the intensity of his touch, the weight of him, the way his hands gripped her, held her like she was something fragile and forbidden and entirely his. She blinks up at the ceiling, chest rising and falling in shallow, shuddered breaths.

But he’s gone. Vanished. Not just out of the room, it seems. She listens for the any sound in the house, hoping to hear his footsteps. There’s nothing. No brush of air, no shift in shadow. Only silence.

“Jasper?” she calls, softly. Then again, louder. Still nothing.

She swings her legs off the bed, reaching for the nearest blanket to cover herself. She grabs the bottle of wine as she pads to the hallway. “Maybe he just needed a minute,” she murmurs to herself, forcing logic into her bones. “Maybe he’s just… cooling down.”

But her feet freeze at the foot of the stairs when she sees the front door cracked open. Not wide. Just enough to say he didn’t want to slam it.

That hurts worse. He ran and he didn’t even look back.

Y/N stands there, dazed and still flushed, cheeks burning with the remnants of pleasure now iced over by confusion. Her body aches. Her lips are swollen from his kisses, her skin tingling from his cold fingers still lingering like frost on her ribs.

She crosses the room in a haze, staring at the open door as though expecting him to materialize there panting, apologizing, kissing her breathless again. But he doesn’t.

In silence, she closes the door. She looks at the bottle of wine he bought for her. The one he unintentionally made her favorite. She doesn’t even pour it, instead she drinks straight from the bottle.

Halfway through, the warmth makes her stomach coil. She sits on the couch, wrapped in the blanket, blinking hard against the sting behind her eyes.

It doesn’t even make her angry, that’s what surprises her most. She’s not angry. She’s still horny, still aching for him, still trapped in the echo of his voice whispering how much he loved her, how she was his everything. She remembers the way his hand fit perfectly around her wrist, the way his chest felt beneath her palms; cold, hard, hers.

And now she’s left here like a junkie in withdrawal, lips raw from addiction, heart pounding like she’s detoxing from a drug that was never meant to be hers.

She runs a hand through her hair, frustrated, more at herself than him.

Why did I push him like that?

She knew she was still lightly bleeding. Not enough for it to be a hassle for her, but enough for him to notice. She knew it and she still pulled him in, let herself lose control. She’s ashamed, because she should have known better.

Did she violate his trust? Her fingers press into her temples. She can’t help but wonder if she pushed him too hard. He didn’t ask her to stop and there was no indication he’ll lose control until his grip on her wrists became too tight. The pain caused her to react and he…he’ll hate himself for it.

She stands quickly, suddenly needing the air. The house is echoing her own insecurities back on her, reminding her of everything that almost happened and didn’t. She throws on a hoodie, pulls on leggings and socks, arms tight around her body like she can hold herself together if she just squeezes hard enough.

She opens the door and freezes.

Paul is standing there. Her porch light glows soft over him, catching on the edge of his jaw. He’s not smirking this time. There’s no cocky tilt to his head, no smugness in his posture, just him.

And in his arms, a bouquet. White tulips and lilies. Clean, elegant, a little bruised at the edges from how tightly he’s gripping them.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

Y/N stares at him. She blinks once, twice. The dizzy cloud in her mind doesn’t fully lift, but it sharpens. Focuses on the man in front of her, the one with warm hands and tired eyes and flowers she didn’t expect.

Her voice is soft, caught between dazed and drained. “Hi.”

He looks at her for a long moment. His eyes flicker to her flushed cheeks, her lips, her messy hair and the muscles harden in his jaw.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?”

She laughs softly, but it sounds wrong. Almost hollow. “Depends how you define bad.”

He shifts awkwardly on the porch, clearly sensing something is off but not sure what to do with it. And he’s not the only one, because part of her is still in that bedroom, back on those sheets, under a man who left her without saying a word, and the rest of her is still waiting for him to come back.

Paul lingers on the porch, shifting his weight as the bouquet droops slightly in his hand.

Y/N stands in the doorway, hoodie sleeves pulled over her palms, hair messy from more than just the wind. She’s not sure what’s written on her face; confusion, discomfort, or just exhaustion, but Paul notices it. He always does.

She breaks the silence first. “Why are you here, Paul?” Her voice is steady. Tired, but not unkind. She doesn't slam the door. Doesn’t run back inside. But she doesn’t move closer, either.

Paul gives her a smile that almost passes for charming if it weren’t laced with nerves. “You said you hated roses,” he says, lifting the bouquet between them. “Thought I’d try something different?”

She doesn’t return the smile. Her brows rise, unimpressed. “Paul -”

He cuts in before she can finish, the grin slipping. “I wanted to apologize. I was rude. Presumptive. I didn’t mean to make things hard for you.”

Her silence is enough permission. He exhales, lowers the flowers a bit. “I’m not over you,” he admits, voice low. “Or us.”

Y/N closes her eyes for a second, rubbing her forehead. She feels the faint pulse of a headache forming behind her temple. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, “but you know I’m with Jasper now. And I really am happy. I know you guys think I’m trapped or something, but this was my choice.”

Paul’s shoulders stiffen, the bouquet wilting further in his grip. His eyes narrow at her with resentment maybe, or disbelief.

“Like the choice to become one of them?”

Her arms cross tightly over her chest. She steps out onto the porch now, not toward him, but just out of the doorway.

“The flowers are beautiful, Paul,” she says softly, ignoring the topic he was so caught up in “but I don’t want them. Not when they clearly have strings attached.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, like he might argue, but he holds back. Barely. “I wasn’t trying to manipulate you.”

“You weren’t trying not to, either.”

He lets out a shaky breath, then, softening again, asks, “Will you at least come for a walk? Just talk with me for a little while. No fighting.”

She shakes her head, stepping back. “I can’t, Paul. It wouldn’t be fair to you, or to Jasper.”

There’s something about the way she says it, not sharp, not dramatic, just final that makes it hit harder.

His jaw clenches. “I think you still care about me,” he says suddenly. “And that’s why you won’t talk to me.”

Her breath catches. “What?”

“You said it’s not fair to me or Jasper.” His eyes narrow just slightly. “Why would it be unfair to Jasper… unless you still feel something for me?”

The words hit her like a light up match dropped in a gas-soaked room. She should have known better, worded it more carefully.

“That’s not what I meant,” she snaps, defensive now, stepping backward. “I meant it’s not fair to keep pretending we’re friends when we’re not. When there’s still this… tension. And you know damn well why it’s there.”

Paul steps closer, eyes burning. “So you do feel something.”

“No!” she says, too quickly. Then more carefully, “Whatever we had, it wasn’t an actual relationship. It wasn’t real. It was sex. That’s all it ever was.”

He flinches like she hit him. “That’s bullshit,” he growls. “You know it. You felt it.”

“I felt used!” she shouts, the wine in her veins finally igniting. “I felt like a goddamn idiot for coming all the way here because I thought there was a spark. Don’t you dare stand there and act like I was the one who didn’t care. You were the one who wasted all the chances I’ve given you.”

Paul’s eyes narrow, struggling hard to swallow the words he wants to say before he takes a step forward.

But he never makes it to her.

“Back off.”

The voice is deep, warning. A large figure moves silently from the edge of the woods behind the house, steps onto the porch with the ease of someone who belongs there.

Emmett.

He plants himself between them, arms folded across his broad chest, eyes sharp on Paul.

“Need I remind you,” Emmett says, voice calm but cold, “Forks is our territory, and you’re not welcome in this home.”

Paul doesn’t move at first. But his jaw tightens. His eyes rest on Y/N for a moment before moving to Emmett, then back again.

He breathes through his nose. “This isn’t over.”

He places the bouquet on the porch and turns, disappearing into the darkness without another word.

Y/N stares after him, lips parted, arms still tight around herself. Emmett doesn’t say anything right away. He turns to her slowly, his expression softening.

“You okay?” he asks gently.

She nods once. Then again. But her voice is shaky. “I don’t know.”

And Emmett does something no one else would have done. He doesn’t push. He just steps forward and wraps his arms around her like a brother would, strong and silent and warm. And for a moment, she lets herself lean into it.

It’s been too long since they saw each other and she didn’t know why. For a moment, she was sure he’s been avoiding her.

“Wanna go grab some food?” He leans back, raising his brows.

“Do you even eat food?”

Emmett grins. “It’s pretty disgusting, but I still like to grab a burger here and there.”

“And I’m the one you’re going to grab it with?”

Winking, he wraps an arm around her. “You. And only you.”

--

The familiar clatter of silverware and low hum of a jukebox fills the cozy diner as Y/N slides into a booth across from Emmett, who immediately waves down the waitress like a regular.

“Two burgers, double patties, extra fries, chocolate shake for me and…” He glances at Y/N, eyes narrowing playfully. “What are you ordering, tiny human with a black hole appetite?”

She rolls her eyes, tugging her hoodie down over her hips as she scoots into the cracked red leather seat. “First of all, rude. Second, yes to all of that. Plus onion rings. I’m emotionally compromised and require carbs.”

He grins. “Atta girl.”

The waitress takes their order with a raised brow and a small smile, clearly already assuming the way Emmett eats is like a linebacker after a long, hard game.

Once she walks away, Emmett leans forward on his elbows, eyebrows raised. “So. Paul.”

Y/N groans and drops her face into her hands. “We’re not talking about him.”

“Too late. You made the mistake of leaving me unsupervised with your drama. Spill.”

She glares at him from between her fingers. “You’re the worst.”

“You say that, but you keep talking to me. You even invited me here.”

“I never invited you here, you brought me.”

“Details.” He waves it off. “Seriously, you okay though? You looked… wrecked. Like seriously wrecked.”

She sighs, leaning back and staring out the window. The fog outside has settled low over the parking lot, streetlights casting halos in the mist.

“I don’t know. I think I fucked up with Jasper.”

Emmett’s expression softens slightly. “He scared himself,” he says quietly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“He ran like I burned him.”

“He ran because he almost bit you,” Emmett says, lowering his voice. “And believe me, none of us are downplaying how serious that is. But it’s not about control or trust or even you. It’s about him. That part of him he hates, that we all struggle with. He thinks he’s burdening you with just by existing.”

She’s quiet for a long moment. The waitress returns with their food and sets the plates down with a quick smile. The scent of grilled meat and fried everything fills the air.

Y/N picks at a fry. “He’s mad at himself.”

“Yeah. And at me,” Emmett adds with a wince.

Her head snaps up. “At you? Why?”

Emmett shrugs. “I let you go to New York alone. Even though he asked me to keep an eye on you. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal. You’re a grown woman, you can handle yourself. But he... he felt helpless. Like he couldn’t protect you.”

She frowns. “Emmett. That wasn’t your fault. There was no stopping me that night.”

“I know. But you know Jasper. He’d take a bullet for you and blame himself for not catching it midair.”

She smiles faintly, eyes glassy now. “I’ll fix it. I’ll talk to him. Make him understand none of that was your fault.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to. You’re my brother. Jasper’s just going to have to accept that.”

Emmett pauses with a french fry halfway to his mouth, blinking. “Wait. Did you just call me your brother?”

She grins. “I mean, emotionally, you’re like if a golden retriever was turned into a big brother.”

He laughs, full-bodied and loud enough to turn heads in the diner. “You’re such a brat.”

“And you’re built like a fridge.”

He winks. “A sexy fridge.”

“Debatable.”

“I’m the definition of sexy,” he shoots back, taking a massive bite of the burger.

She snorts into her milkshake, then sighs contentedly. “You know, I needed this.”

“Cheese grease and emotional therapy via older vampire you’ve adopter as a brother? I’m always on call.”

“I mean it,” she says, nudging his foot under the table, stifling a yelp. “That hurt,” she huffs before continuing, “You’re like… my favorite non-homicidal Cullen.”

“Low bar, but I’ll take it.”

They eat in silence for a while, the weight between them lighter now. She leans her cheek on her hand, watching him demolish his third helping of fries.

“Do you think he’ll come back tonight?” she asks softly.

Emmett pauses mid-chew, swallows. “Honestly? I think he’ll try. He wants to. But if he doesn’t, it’s not because he doesn’t love you.”

“I know,” she says. And she does. Still, her fingers curl tighter around her milkshake straw.

“You should get some sleep,” Emmett says gently. “I can hang around till sunrise. Keep watch. You know, in case another werewolf tries to bring flowers and guilt.”

She chuckles quietly. “You really don’t have to.”

He grins and wipes ketchup from his chin. “But I want to. And also, I ate half your fries and don’t feel guilty about it, so I kind of owe you.”

Y/N shakes her head and lifts her hand toward him.

He slaps his palm into hers, high fiving her. “You’ve got a whole messed-up, crazy, death-defying family behind you now, Y/N. You’re not alone anymore.”

She squeezes his hand. “Yeah. I know.”

--

The house is quiet when Emmett drops her off, the sky above thick with clouds and the scent of rain teasing the air. He gives her a long hug before disappearing into the trees like a shadow. She watches him vanish, arms wrapped around herself, heart heavier than before despite the lightness of their earlier laughter. She didn’t want him staying, though he promised he’d be close enough he’d hear her call if she needed him.

When she pushes open the front door, a creak echoes through the stillness. The scent of wine still lingers faintly in the air from earlier. Her fingertips brush over the empty bottle on the coffee table. She takes a breath and heads upstairs, heart already aching at the sight of her empty bed.

But something stops her just before she turns on the light. She feels him again. The air is colder, familiar.

She turns, finding his gaze on her.

Jasper is standing just outside her open window, leaning against the sill like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to come in. His eyes meet hers, molten gold rimmed with deep shadows, anguish carved into every inch of his expression.

She holds her breath and for a moment, neither of them speak.

“You came back,” she whispers.

He nods, once. “Couldn’t stay away.”

She moves slowly, walking toward the window, her feet quiet on the floorboards. Jasper watches her every step, like he’s afraid she’ll vanish if he blinks. The closer she gets, the more she can see how wrecked he is; his shirt slightly wrinkled, his curls a mess from running through the woods, his hands trembling faintly at his sides.

“I didn’t know if I’d see you again tongiht,” she says softly.

“I didn’t deserve to come back,” he murmurs.

Her brow furrows. “Jasper…”

“I almost bit you.” His voice cracks. “I wanted to.”

“You didn’t.”

He presses his hand against the frame, eyes burning. “You don’t understand. I felt it…my teeth were right there. One second longer and I would’ve -” He cuts himself off, turning his face away like he’s ashamed to breathe the same air as her.

She steps forward, reaching for his hand. “But you didn’t, Jasper. That’s what matters. You stopped. You knew when to stop.”

“I shouldn’t have let it get that far in the first place. You were vulnerable and I…” His voice breaks, and this time he does look at her. “You trusted me, and I put you in danger.”

Her fingers thread through his. “I still trust you.”

He swallows hard. “I didn’t mean to leave you like that. I didn’t even think. I just… panicked. I was so close to losing control. And all I could think was that if I hurt you…if I lost you, I’d never be able to live with myself. I’d make sure it would be the end of me, as well.”

She steps closer until they’re barely inches apart, the wind brushing through the window, rustling the curtains like whispers.

“You’re a good person,” she tells him. “I don’t want you to be afraid of us. Even if you bit me, you’d just bring the inevitable to reality.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t know what it’s like to want something so badly it feels like it’s eating you alive and to know that wanting it could kill it. If I bit you, I wouldn’t have stopped. Y/N, you’d be dead. There’s nothing that can bring you back from that.”

She cups his cheek, cold skin warming beneath her touch. “I understand, but you need to realize I have faith in you.”

He leans into her palm, his eyes fluttering shut. “I’m not safe for you.”

“You’re the only one I’ve ever felt safe with,” she replies, voice low.

That does it. Jasper moves through the window and into the room, pulling her into his arms like a drowning man. Their bodies press together, her warmth sinking into him, grounding him. He doesn’t kiss her, not yet, he just holds her. Like if he lets go, his heart would break in half.

“I love you,” he whispers, voice raw. “I love you so much it terrifies me.”

She buries her face in his neck, breathing him in, “I know,” she whispers back. “Me too.”

They stay like that, holding each other in the dark. His fingers curl in the hem of her shirt, but this time there’s no hunger in it. Just a need to feel her and a silent vow to do better.

They lie tangled in the sheets, fully clothed but not untouched. Jasper’s arms wrap around her tightly, one hand splayed over her lower back while the other brushes lazy circles along her shoulder.

Y/N is half-draped over him, her head resting on his chest, listening to him breath, wishing she could hear his unbeating heart. She’s drifting. Her eyes are closed, lashes kissing her cheeks. One of her legs is thrown over his, her fingertips unknowingly tracing the outline of a scar on his bicep in slow, sleepy patterns.

“Mmm,” she murmurs, her voice drowsy, “you should forgive Emmett.”

Jasper’s brow creases. “You don’t waste time, do you?”

“You shouldn’t be mad anymore,” she slurs softly, her breath warm against his collarbone. “He feels awful.”

Jasper sighs, his thumb still moving along her skin. “He should feel awful. Letting you go to New York alone? I should’ve ripped his arms off.”

She snorts, barely opening one eye. “You like his arms. You once said they were ‘respectable.’”

“I lied.”

She smiles, pressing a kiss just under his jaw. “He’s like a brother to me.”

“I know.”

“I want you to forgive him.”

“You’ve made that very clear, Darlin.”

They’re quiet for a moment, and he thinks she might be drifting off again until she says, casually, “He chased Paul off the porch tonight.”

Jasper goes still. “…What?”

She lifts her head just enough to peek up at him, eyes heavy with sleep but amusement tugging at the corners. “He was there when I came downstairs. With flowers. Being all… Paul. Emmett showed up before he could start anything.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“He’s forgiven,” Jasper says immediately, deadpan.

Y/N bursts into soft, sleepy giggles and collapses fully against his chest, letting herself melt into his body.

“Thought that might do it,” she mumbles.

Jasper smiles despite himself, kissing the top of her head. He brushes her hair back and whispers, “You really know me that well?”

She hums. “I like to think so.”

His hand moves up to cradle the back of her head as he shifts slightly, pulling her closer. “I think I know you just as well.”

“You don’t,” she disagrees playfully.

He chuckles, low and rough. “But I’ll spend forever trying to.”

Her palm rests on his chest, fingers splayed like a claim, and his cheek is pressed to the top of her head. The scent of her is everywhere, and yet he breathes her in like it’s air, not torment.

“You’re everything to me, Darlin’,” he whispers against her hair. “You’re light in every dark corner I’ve ever had. I’d burn a thousand times over just to hold you like this.”

She stirs, letting out a sleepy sigh. “Keep talking…”

“I love you. Every version of you. The stubborn parts, the scared parts, the ones you think are too heavy to carry. I’ll take them all.”

“Even when I annoy you about forgiving Emmett?”

He smiles. “Even then.”

Her breathing evens out, soft and steady. The little weight of her trust settles in his arms like a secret only he gets to hold. His thumb brushes lightly over the curve of her hip beneath the covers.

He presses one more kiss to her hairline and whispers, “Sleep, my love. I’ve got you.”

--

The earth trembles beneath him. Paw meets dirt with bone jarring force, claws tearing through moss and root as the wolf barrels through the forest, a heap of muscles and fury and sorrow. The moonlight shines through the trees in fractured shards, glinting off silvery-gray fur as Paul runs, fast and desperate, lungs burning from the strain.

He’s not running for exercise. He’s running from her name echoing in his mind on repeat, from the image of her standing on that porch with messy hair and cheeks still flushed from him. From the way her voice trembled when she pushed him away.

From the reality that he is losing her.

Forever.

He pushes harder, faster. Branches claw at his sides. The wind howls in his ears. He wants the pain. He welcomes it.

She’s really going to do it. Become one of them. A Cullen in every sense of the word. She didn’t say it, but he could tell it’s what she plans t do. Like it’s inevitable, like she’s already made peace with it.

And what did he do? Brought her flowers like it could fix the past. Like white tulips could erase the night he didn’t come home after he left her for Rachel like she meant nothing.

You’re a coward..

He dodges a boulder, leaps across a creek and keeps running.

She was never supposed to mean this much. Not when they ended up in bed because it felt right even if he didn’t know why, and definitely not when she smirked at him like she could see straight through his bullshit and still didn’t run. But she did. She mattered more than she was ever supposed to. And he ruined it.

He wasn’t ready. He was angry, about the imprint, about fate pulling his strings, about the guilt that weighed him down every time he saw her sitting there, trying so hard to be wanted by someone like him who didn’t know how to let her in without burning everything down. She followed him to La Push. She claimed it was for the donation but Paul knew that was a lie. She came for himand he treated her like a burden. Like she was in the way of some future he didn’t even want until she showed up and made it feel possible.

The worst part? He can never take any of it back. Even now, when she knows what caused it all to transpire, she doesn’t forgive him. She believes his imprint would cause friction between them. She’s worried she’d never be a priority.

The growl in his throat is primal, rattling through the stillness of the woods as he skids to a stop, panting.

He shifts. Naked and trembling in the moonlight, Paul collapses to his knees in the pine needles, raking his fingers through the dirt. His chest heaves, not from exertion, but from the sheer weight of what he’s lost.

She was mine first. Not in the possessive, childish way. But in the way where losing her was felt in his soul. There was hope for them…The kind where two broken people find warmth in each other’s shadows. The kind that could’ve become something if he hadn’t let fear and fate break it before it began.

He presses his forehead to the ground, muscles locked, jaw clenched.

She’s going to die and come back with red eyes and cold skin and he’ll never get to touch her again without being reminded of everything she left behind. She’ll forget the way they fit together, the way he made her laugh. She’ll forget the way he’d memorized the sound of her breathing after she fell asleep in his arms in her bed in New York. She’ll forget the way she enjoyed his warmth, and demanded kisses.

She’ll forget him.

And he has no one to blame but himself. If only he came home that night, if he could have talked to her, it would have been fine. He could have kept her in bed longer that morning, maybe that whole weekend. There would be to reason for her to go to the beach alone, no reason for Jasper to swoop in and take her with him. Within a week, the Cullens would have been gone and she’d stay there with him, never getting attached to a bloodsucker.

That one mistake cost him everything. How is he supposed to live with that?

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to the dark, but the wind doesn’t answer, it carries no absolution.

It’s no longer just about him wanting her, it’s about saving her life. If she decides she doesn’t want him around, he’ll accept it. He just can’t accept her becoming a leech like the rest of them. Losing her is one thing. Letting her get killed and dragged into an eternal life where she won’t be herself is entirely different.

Bella was lucky to keep her humanity untouched. She’s an exception, not a rule. And Paul was about to remind everyone of the rules they already have in place, to ensure her safety.

-----------------------------------

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[loveandmurders]

can never have enough baby sister Sinclair content!!! can never have enough emotion!!!!!

If your requests are open rn, i've been starving for some gut wrenching hurt/comfort from these boys.

Some large disagreement has practically torn all four siblings apart for days now, none of them having ever fought like this before. And only through a bloodied close call with some victims- that practically puts both Bo and the readers lives at risk, (preferably not a recreation of the melting museum scene, but u can do whatever you'd like!!) do they remember who they are to eachother. Only through that life or death reminder and adrenaline spike do they proudly reclaim the fact that they can never be separated, that all four of them are in on this together as a whole.

feel free to do whatever you like with this, id absolutely love to see your take and writing on my idea

+ no pressure to write it ofc !!

Hi love!! I'm so sorry it took me so long to finally answer this awesome request! I hope you'll still enjoy reading this despite the delay.

It'll be into two parts because I enjoy this kind of angst way too much.

BROKEN WITHOUT MY SIBLINGS - Part 1

Warnings: no proof reading, ANGST, toxic family I guess, reader gets hurt, mention of blood, violence and death, mentions of being nauseous and needing stiches, a few strong words,

It started with the twins arguing in the morning. 

They disagreed about where to place the new statues of wax. Vincent wanted them in the museum, because he was very proud of how they turned out. But Bo wanted them in Ambrose, maybe in some of the abandoned houses or in the forest, or somewhere tourists could see them and think “oh yes, people do live here”. Bo tried to explain to Vincent that he wasn’t insulting his art, on the contrary: the last creations were so good that even Bo thought they were real people when he first saw them.

Lester and you stayed silent as the twins argued, none of you wanted to be part of this. At some point, you tried to appease them when you felt this was getting out of hand. You hated to hear them tearing each other apart like that. You just wanted a peaceful morning among the people you loved.

However, it seemed you made things worse. Bo snapped at you and Vincent sent you meaning "shut up". You were stunned and hurt because you thought you were their favorite, no matter the situation. You leaned back against your chair and stopped talking. You finished your tea in silence, not hungry anymore. Lester tried to joke around because he hated how upset you looked and because he was feeling uneasy. But it only pissed off everyone and you finally all left the kitchen to go to work. You were all in a terrible slaughtering mood that day.

You thought about what happened this morning all day long. It was touching you more than you thought it would. Your family was everything to you but the mean little voice inside your head was happy to remind you that your family was everything but a healthy one.

You had hoped things would be better at the end of the day, but when you came back home, Bo was yelling at Lester because he had forgotten to buy something. Lester didn’t say anything but left and didn’t participate at the familly dinner. You asked Bo to apologise, which he refused.

And you started to argue again. At some point, Vincent told the two of you that he needed some silence and that you were unbearable. It didn’t help the situation.

For the first time in a long time, you all went to bed upset at one another. You didn't wish Vincent a good night, and he hid away, not wanting to see any more of his siblings. You forgot to send a message to Lester and he didn’t either. You didn’t even think about snuggling into Bo’s arms, like you usually did after a fight, and he didn't come into your bedroom either.

This was strange and uncomfortable. 

The four of you had a heavy heart and a wounded ego.

You had hoped you all would try your best the next morning. The twins did tightly hug you as you entered the kitchen and you were relieved. Lester came by to have breakfast with everyone. Even though you all stayed silent, it was more comfortable, and yet still a little bit tense.

You thought it was going to be alright, like it always was. You even stopped thinking about the situation once at work.

When you came back home, everything went downhill. 

You quickly understood your brothers were hunting when you saw blood and a dead body next to Bo’s garage. You were annoyed they didn’t let you know. Something probably came up and they didn't have time to send you a message.

But still. 

You carefully went home and sent a message to the boys so they would know you were in the house. You asked them to quickly finish the hunt off too, because you were tired.

You tried to relax by preparing some lemonade for everyone. 

Suddenly, there was a knife pressed against your throat.

“Don't fucking know who you are but you have to be with them. And I'm gonna kill you like they killed my people” a man told you

You froze. A tourist was in the house. 

And his threat was serious.

“I can get ya outta Ambrose alive. Wouldn't ya like that instead of havin’ my death in your consciousness?”

The man stayed silent. He hesitated. 

You carefully turned around to face him.

You softly took a knife laying on the counter behind you. Before the man could react you moved his arm away from you and stabbed him in the shoulder. You tried to run away but he caught you and fell on the ground pretty loudly. You screamed Vincent’s name as strongly as you could several times. The man topped you and tried to stab you. You caught the blade in your bare hands and struggled, crying out in pain. 

None of you heard someone running in the basement stairs or a door being violently opened. You were about to get killed when the man was roughly pulled away from you. Vincent sliced his throat open without thinking about it, before his attention went on you. He tore apart his shirt so he could wrap it around your hands. He seemed calm but his hands were slightly shaking. His baby sister got hurt and it shouldn’t have happened, especially not inside the house. They promised you the place would always be safe for you.

“Vincent, ’m really not feelin’ 'lright” you said, you were nauseous and lightheaded

“Only two more tourists and we'll take care of you, ok?” he signed

“Need to be taken care of right now” your voice broke

“We can’t. They could get away or hurt us even more” Vincent replied, his heart clenching at the look you gave him

“Ya gonna leave me alone” you sniffed

Vincent felt very bad about it. You were clearly shocked and hurt. He almost stayed by your side, but he needed to deal with the danger first.

“I’ll be back very very soon, I promise” He tenderly kissed your forehead before leaving

You didn’t have the strength to get up anymore so you simply stayed on the floor. You couldn’t stop thinking that you needed to move out of Ambrose again. If your brothers couldn't protect you from their business, you couldn’t stay. Something was getting broken between the four of you, and you knew it. But for the moment, you were too angry and unwell to care about it.

You didn't know how long you waited that way, bleeding through your bandages on the floor. You felt like you were about to lose consciousness. Thankfully, the twins came back home before you could pass out. They were covered in blood. They seemed to be alright though, a few bruises and scratches here and there but nothing too bad.

They quickly helped you to get up and you let them do without a word. You were too weak.

“Hey love, how are ya?” Bo asked and you wanted to scream

“Don't know, how am I, ya think?” you snapped back as you showed him your hands

“Stupid question, 'f course… 'm sorry, sis. Won't happen again” he promised you as they sat you down on the couch.

“It sure won't happen again” you mumbled but the twins heard you and worried over what you meant.

They were actually too worried to ask you about it.

They washed their hands before starting to take care of you. They removed the bandages, cleaned up the wounds and gave you some painkillers. The cuts were deep. You couldn’t even look at it without feeling bad again.

“Gonna need to stitch your palms” Bo softly commented

He helped you drink some cold water before the twins started to work on you. They both fell silent. They needed to focus. Guilt was definitely taking over their whole beings. They failed you pretty badly this time. And you weren’t talking either. You weren’t trying to ease their own pain. You couldn’t care less about it at the moment. You were full of rage and your hands were burning. 

Once they were done, they gently put on some clean bandages and asked you how you were feeling. You were looking rather sick.

“Fuck ya, the two of ya” you simply said

“Love… I know we fucked up…” Bo started

“Oh ya think so?! I’m in pain, I won’t be able to use both my fuckin’ hands for a while, and ya think ya just fucked up? I thought the house’d always be safe, hmm? Can’t even do that for me” you lashed out

“It wouldn't've happened if Vince had killed the guy like he should've though” Bo hummed and sent a dirty look to Vincent who groaned

“How fucking dare you? I didn’t know a fucking tourist was inside the house. I didn’t even know there were still three of them.” Vincent replied

Lester arrived at this instant, he looked like he had run. He had tried to call his three siblings to know how things were going and when none of them answered him, he had started to panic. He was breathless and when his eyes fell on you, then on your hands, and then on the dead body in the kitchen, he understood you got attacked

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, what happened?” he asked

“What happened? What happened is that you didn’t tell me how many tourists were around and we missed one who sneaked inside the house and almost killed Y/N” Vincent replied

The three brothers started to violently argue over whose fault it was. Bo shouldn’t have toyed with the tourists and should have killed them as quickly as possible, Vincent shouldn’t have left the house unprotected, especially knowing you would come back home during the hunt, Lester should have let his brothers know how many tourists were around and what they looked like.

Fed up, you got up and they all fell silent.

“Hey baby, need some help to go rest in your bed?” Bo asked in the most gentle voice he could manage after having yelled at his brothers

Vincent and Lester were also ready to help you with everything you would need. They were concerned you would fall on the ground, as you didn’t seem very steady.

“I’m not settlin’ here. Clearly, Ambrose ain’t safe for me. I’ll find a hotel somewhere” you replied

“No, no, ya’re safe here”

“I won’t let any other tourists find Ambrose, ya can rest in peace”

“You need to be taken care of, and we can do that. You have to stay to make sure your wounds don’t get infected”

“How ‘bout I’ll make ya some food?”

“I can go and grab anythin’ that could make ya feel better too”

“I’ll help you settle in your room or anywhere you’d like”

You were too tired to fight

“Whateva” you finally said and your big brothers seemed to relax a little bit

The whole evening was spent between your brothers looking after you as you uncharacteristically stayed quiet and defiant, and your brothers arguing downstairs about what happened.

At some point, Lester left with the promise he wasn’t going to come back. You asked the twins to stop coming into your room so you could sleep. Vincent locked himself up in the basement. Bo went to his garage. He needed to do something with his hands to quieten the voices inside his head.

None of you slept that night.

The family was utterly broken.

--

Part 2

[max-fewtrell]

.

[moriitis]

Don't talk to strangers on the internet.

Toby Rogers x Female Reader. Content/Warnings; phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation, threats, graphic themes, sexual themes.

18+ MINORS DNI. NSFW/SMUT.

Word count; 4.7k

So, you met this guy. He was cute, his pictures on his social media were inviting enough and eventually the two of you got around to talking. He was.. charming of sorts, oh, and funny too! But there was one thing that always rubbed you the wrong way, how he always avoided certain questions. You'd had your fair share of friendships over the wonders of the internet, you knew a handful of people and if you were asked, you knew their age, whereabouts they came from and what their dog was called. The usual information you felt any friend was ought to know but this guy.. you weren't sure; a part of you just assuming that maybe he some sort of catfish? - Or just a very private person and hey, who were you to blame? The internet could be a weird, dangerous and pretty scary place. You'd had the phrase 'Stranger danger' drilled into your head more times than you could count. But him -

Toby.

That was all you knew of him. Well, other than he was also in his twenties and owned a crappy pick up truck. He'd met you through -

Toby: a friend of a friend….. thought u seemed cute :)

And well, he was cute to so fuck it; you gave him a chance and opened the DM he sent. His Instagram was plain as anything, with barely any followers and equally barely posts. Some crappy mirror selfie, a photo of his truck and then a picture of a cake. It all felt… well, weird and it gave your gut a weird feeling.

[Y/N]: friend of a friend? umm.. who?

Naturally, you were open to meeting new people and forming friendships, but your Instagram was pretty private and you couldn't think of which friend who would give it out without your consent.

1 Image Attached.

And it was a screenshot of your friends Instagram. It was.. better than nothing but it only opened up a lot more questions than answers. It was bad, you were single, lonely and he was cute; so fuck it you'd let it slide this once. After accepting his follow request, you allowed him further into your private life. The photos and pictures on your feed detailing every part and aspect of your life. The park you would visit, what you ate for breakfast, your Spotify wrapped, photos of your pets, it was endless but your Instagram was your safe space; so you posted a lot on there. Even after accepting him, a part of you expected him to almost immediately ask for nudes or better yet, send some unasked dick picture in your DMs. But that was where Toby surprised you, because for months he kinda just ghosted you or wouldn't message at all. You weren't going to complain, you liked not having someone spam the shit out of you.

Then, as days and weeks ticked by, you'd upload more. Admittedly, you forgot about your little DM encounter with Toby until he liked your photo. It was just a picture of your new nails, a little treat you'd like to get once the blue moon. As soon as you got the notification, your phone buzzed again and it was another DM from Toby.

Toby: hey. sorry i havent messaged in awhile. lol

You blinked, unsure on what to type back but it was too late now because you'd opened the message and he had seen that you had seen it. So you both sat in the chat, lingering, that familiar online green dot beside his profile picture as you thought on what to say. This small talk shit was… a bit boring and you hated it. So, after a moment, you typed a response.

[Y/N]: oh no dont worry its ok!

He read it in an instant.

Toby: im toby btw. srry i never like rlly introduced myself and now u probs think im some creep

A laughing emoji followed behind his sentence and you couldn't help the smile creeping across your face. You swiftly tapped your fingers against the screen as you typed back a reply.

[Y/N]: im [Y/N]. haha its ok

You cringed a little, you felt like you were being so blunt toward him; so for safety measures you sent a little smiling emoji after your own text.

The small talk flickered back and forth for a couple more months until Toby's messages became a little more consistent and as much as you hated to admit it; you were opening up to him more and more. The awkwardness of the first interaction seemed to have disappeared the more you interacted with him, yet that nagging voice in the back of your mind were persistent. Despite the time you had known each other, Toby would dodge each question you asked him.

[Y/N]: so where r u from?

Then suddenly he'd go offline. Then at other times he would respond at insane hours of the morning. Time zones, you thought. Maybe he were just across the country and he'd respond at times when you were asleep? It made sense, it was logical and yet that voice still lingered; that something was weird about this Toby user. His green flags kept you around though, or the random memes or reels he would send you that would make you laugh. Before you knew it, the months rolled into a year already of knowing him and each time he'd send you a message, there'd be a flutter of excitement in the pits of your stomach.

It was late, well, early actually. Your sleep schedule was beyond fucked and you were sleeping until noon and staying up until the early hours of the morning. Toby must've been a night owl too, because almost every time he saw you online in the early hours of the morning, he'd send a message. This time though, there was no message and he was offline, the chat between the two of you unusually quiet. Now, perhaps it was the lack of sleep and the impulsiveness that followed, but you were lingering in the chat; debating whether you should message him or not. You didn't want to bother or disturb him, especially if he were sleeping.. but you were adamant he had to be awake.

4:24 AM.

[Y/N]: r u awake

Silence, no respond and with a sigh you admitted defeat. Maybe you should just try to sleep. Then, that green bubble appeared next to his picture and you quickly tapped back into the chat.

Toby: now i am

[Y/N]: fuck im srry did i wake u up

Toby: lol nah i was joking :p

You rolled your eyes, smiling softly to yourself.

[Y/N]: wat u doin

Toby's speech bubble appeared, disappeared, appeared and then disappeared again in the chat.

1 Image Attached.

Your curiosity peaked and you raised a brow. Admittedly, you were nervous to open it because now you were convinced it was going to be a picture of his dick. This had, sadly, happened too many times and it had become a little predictable now. However, as you clicked opened the image, it was nothing but a picture of him laying on a bed. There was a tv on a dresser, it looked like he were watching some movie but honestly, your attention was elsewhere. The sheets were draped over his legs in an almost half-assed fashion. Your eyes, dare you admit it, trailed higher up the photo. His bare legs on display, one laid out straight while the other propped up with his knee in the air. It looked as if he were only in his boxers but you couldn't really tell, it was dark and the only thing illuminating the photo was the glare from the tv before him. Now, Toby was hot, you were single and you couldn't help but admit that maybe you were a little lonely and that photo opened up a lot more feelings than you anticipated to feel tonight. Swiping off the photo, you saw he was lingering in the chat and decided to message back quickly before it got weird.

[Y/N]: oh lol just watching tv. kinda boring.

You teased and Toby sent a laughing emoji.

Toby: probably better than wat u r doing… wat r u doing? huh?!

You laughed at the tone of message. With a huff, you raised your phone above you before snapping a photo. Your face, thankfully, was out of frame, but the photo allowed him to catch a glimpse of your collarbones; the rest of your chest tucked away under the thicket of your duvet. It was a teasing photo, you could admit that. He could see your jaw and jawline, a soft smile across your face.

It was also dark in your room, so you used the phone's flash to give him better access of what he was looking at. Then you sent, not wanting to give it another thought. Toby reacted to the photo with a gasped emoji but you knew he were just teasing, the motion enough to make you chuckle softly.

Toby: ur legit not even doing anything and me watching tv is boring? lol ok.

You loved how comfortable you now seemed with one another, a huge difference compared to a year ago when he first popped up in your DMs. His message made you laugh again, sending him a gif of someone poking their tongue out.

[Y/N]: u sound like a hater

Toby: me??? a hater???? LOLLLLLL sure.

Then the chat went silent a little, but he were still online; waiting, yearning even. This friendship between you and Toby was something you cherished, it flowed so well that it felt as if you guys had known each other longer than a year. With a sigh, you tapped your fingers against your screen; trying to find words to keep the conversation going. It seemed, however, that Toby thought the same thing and he had already beat you to it.

Toby: u know. ive never heard ur voice.

Those words, nothing but a simple array of pixels, was enough to make you feel another flutter of excitement. You were a little surprised by his message and you also knew that he were right. You hadn't heard his voice either and now a part of you were also equally curious.

[Y/N]: what r u implying? lol

Toby: idk. maybe i should have ur number and call u.

You raised a brow, it was smooth; trying to get your number and all that. You weren't going to hesitate, because admittedly you felt a little more comfortable with Toby than ever before.

[Y/N]: lol but its late and im tired. plus i sound like shit :p

It were true and even though everything in your very being told you that you wanted to call him, you were also a little nervous at the prospect of it.

Toby: u think i care?

He was right, why do you care? Maybe it was because there were feelings that were blossoming. Fuck, and that was bad itself as you had no idea if this guy even had a girlfriend. You didn't want to be some wrecker, or worse, the other woman. But why would you care? Is the only thought you could muster up, it's not like this phone call was going to go anywhere. You were friends, nothing else, no benefits, no strings attached; just two people who enjoy each others company. So, before you knew it you had typed your phone number away in the chat. Nothing followed after a couple minutes, making your hands clammy from sweat. God, you hated phone calls and now you were nothing but a puddle of sweaty anxiety as you waited for him to call.

Then there it was, your phone buzzing from the incoming call. It was an unknown number, naturally and you only assumed it was Toby's. Although you hesitated to answer, feeling yourself chew on the bottom of you lip. Quickly, you answered and pressed your phone to your ear. It was quiet, an awkward silence looming over the two of you.

"Hey," he spoke, his voice a lot more huskier and deeper than you imagined it to be. Immediately, you felt shy and swallowed back the lump in your throat to respond.

"Hey," you replied, your nervousness evident in your tone of voice alone. You could hear a short, brief chuckle emerge from the other end and you sat up a little, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I don't think you sound gross," he started, causing a small fluster of red to emerge on your cheeks. You were thankful this wasn't FaceTime. "I l-ll-.. like your voice." He spoke in nothing but a hushed whisper, which yeah, made sense considering it was nearly 5 AM. Toby had opened up to you about his stutters before, so hearing him struggle with some words were nothing out of the ordinary for you. You were thankful he trusted you enough to open up about it really.

You chuckled, trying your best to remain quiet. "Thanks," you started, your heart beating a million beats per second.

Then that awkward silence again and you cringed, licking your lips wet before speaking again.

"Sorry, I'm so awkward," you let you a short chuckle, running a hand through your hair as you tried to act more casual. Toby chuckled again.

"It's okay, I get it," he reassured, his voice soothing and comforting. You palmed nervously at your duvet, not even too sure what to say. There was always so much to say over text and now he had you pinned, in the spotlight a little and you were choking.

"There's a lot I want to say-" you admitted sheepishly and Toby hummed in interest.

"Then say it."

You exhaled a shaky breath, licking your lips once again. As much as he had you pinned, you also had him. There were so many questions you wanted to ask, so many things you wanted to know and now seemed as good time as any. If he were to hang up, then that would answer a lot of your suspicions. "I just feel like I barely know you."

"Then what do you w-ww-.. wanna know?" he asked, his voice gentle and welcoming and frankly it put you on edge a little. You didn't want to interrogate the man but this was the closest you had been to actually knowing more about him in the whole damned year you knew him!

"Well, I'm assuming your name isn't just Toby."

He chuckled.

"I mean, it's Toby… but I do also have a l-llast name, yeah."

You swallowed, throat becoming unbearably dry.

"Well… what is it?" You asked, your anxiety bubbling at the base of your throat as if you were about to throw up.

"Toby Rogers." You could hear him smiling as he said it and you breathed out a sigh of relief which was loud enough for him to hear. "Why'd you wanna know?" And admittedly, you weren't sure. Maybe because it just felt more.. real? Honestly, you just felt better knowing than unknowing.

"I-I-.." you couldn't explain yourself. "Honestly, I don't know-" you admitted, chuckling dryly.

Toby Rogers. Toby Rogers. That name repeated itself in the back of your mind, each time you found yourself almost recognising it more and more. It was so familiar, like you had heard it before and yet you were unsure as to where. Toby's short scoff brought you back to the conversation at hand. You could hear that same tv in the background on his end. It wasn't loud but loud enough for you to make out screaming.

"Are you watching a horror film?" you asked, snorting out a little laugh at his nerdiness. Although, you received no response, no answer. The screaming just filling the end of the phone, you felt that uneasiness creep back into your very being. Then, after a second long silence, he spoke.

"Oh- hah.. sorry, yeah, I am, didn't think you could hear it."

You forced a smile, scratching absently at the back of your neck.

"So.. what are you wearing?" Your heart fell through to your ass and you froze, wide eyed in horror at his sudden question. It was unexpected and nervously you choked out a laugh.

"Uh-" you started and before you could even muster up any courage to speak, he was laughing; which only calmed you briefly.

"Haha! Oh god, I'm joking, I'm not a weirdo-" he chuckled, laughing a lot harder than he had recently done. You rolled your eyes, shit he wanted to play games? You were up for it, but first you needed to fan yourself for a moment. His laughter faded back into that silence as you glanced down at your body. Admittedly, you just wore some old over sized shirt that had acquired many holes over the years and your underwear. Wasn't particularly lingerie, but shit, it's not like you exactly planned to actually do something with this guy?

You snickered to yourself purely because the idea of.. being so intimate with him excited with you more than you'd ever know.

"I'm wearing just some old shirt, that's-.." you choked out a laugh. "That's really too big for me.. and just-.. just my underwear." Toby was silent on the other end, not expecting you to actually straight up answer his question. He let out a short chuckle and then another, not believing what you had said but by the serious tone in your voice, he dawned on him that you were being honest.

"Oh?" he finally croaked out, feeling something stir within him. It was this flutter of excitement, that began in the lower pits of his stomach and finally travelled to his cock. Now, he knew what dangerous game he were playing and he knew that if he accepted this invitation, it could bring him a great deal of trouble. Your voice was just so.. tempting and it lured him in just to taste more of your sweet words. Toby clenched his jaw a little, he was getting so riled up at just the thought of you alone. "You don't sleep naked?" there was a teasing hint in his tone of voice and you chuckled.

"Would you rather I did?" And it was there he melted. Fuck, he'd do anything. He'd tug on some fucking pants right now just to march over to your house and fuck you relentlessly. Your words resulted in him shuddering, his breath hot and heavy down the phone. Toby knew to choose his words carefully here because ultimately he knew he were playing with fire, it's just the only issue was; he was thinking more with his dick now than with his head. Toby scoffed out chuckle once again, his voice a lot more huskier than before.

"I mean.. I would-" he started, his mind a horny, jumbled mess as he tried to conjure up the right words. "Would make it easier for me to fuck you." Speaking those words made his skin prickle, it was so wrong and in that moment it felt so right. The tension in the air was palpable, his mouth feeling increasingly dry. His cock stirred and twitched beneath the fabric of his boxers, making him shift uncomfortably in bed. God, he wasn't gonna jack off tonight but fuck it, if you were gonna, he wasn't going to let you do it alone.

And you weren't any better than he was on the other end, your own clit aching for a simple touch. It made you shift also, in some sort of desperate attempt to feel some fabric against the sensitive nerves. The touch, however, not enough as you felt yourself slipping back into the softness of your pillow. His words almost made your head spin, your breath hitching in your throat as you tried to control your thoughts; which were riddled with nothing but filth. As much as you tried to deny it, you could feel the dampness seep through the thin layer of fabric between your legs, feeling so ridiculously turned on that a part of you questioned how long it had been since you hooked up with someone.

"God-.." you breathed helplessly down the phone, your words and breathless tone already giving Toby the thumbs up that he was headed in the right direction.

It was there he laughed a little, almost in disbelief. "Wait, are you touching yourself?"

You froze a little in his reply, dumbfounded. Should you be? Your body ached for it, so why not? Quickly, you pushed a hand down between your thighs and got to rolling your index and middle finger against your clit. You gasped at the touch, legs parting a little more as you rolled your head back into pillow beneath you. The touch brought an immediate warmth to the lower of your stomach, earning a soft, delicate whimper to escape from between the plumpness of your lips.

Those noises only stirred Toby into motion himself, palming himself through his boxers with a soft grunt here and there. His eyes closed briefly, imagining all those delicate sounds to be coming from the tip of his cock. Wanting to desperately to feel your lips wrapped around his shaft.

"I like those pretty, little sounds," he spoke softly, his voice just above a whisper as he soaked in each sound that flowed through the speaker of his phone. "What are you thinking about while you touch yourself?" he grunted, biting the bottom of his lips briefly as the mental image of you in bed reaching your orgasm to the thought of his cock alone making him almost tremble and whimper himself.

Your fingers, although with a slight tremble, continued to dance against your clit. Rolling it softly in an attempt to pace yourself, but you were hungry for an orgasm and not only that; you were fucking tired. It wasn't like you wanted this to be over, it's just you weren't sure how long you could hold out for. His words fed your actions more as your whines and whimpers continued to flood helplessly through the phone. "I'm think-.." you interrupted yourself with a moan, "I'm thinking about how good you'd feel."

Those words send a shiver of delight down his spine and Toby was feeling too hungry to withdraw himself any longer. So, his hand wrapped around the length of his shaft and slowly he pumped at it. Each motion of his hand sending soft waves of pleasure to course through his bloodstream, a concealed grunt and groan which passed through his clenched teeth. He wasn't exactly a vocal person - though he had to be for the whole idea of phone sex to really work. "Ffuck-" he breathlessly moaned, his cock an aching mess with pre-cum already coating the tip of it; adding only a fraction of lubrication.

Toby's own mind was equally full of sinful thoughts, the idea of running is tongue up between your slit to suckle softly on your clit, or the idea of cumming all over that pretty face of yours. Admittedly, being a fucking murderer meant he didn't get many blissful nights of burying his cock deep in someone; so the thoughts accompanied with those sounds of yours were enough to nearly already make him cum. Stifling a moan with a lip pressed firmly against his upper teeth, he groaned a deep guttural growl.

"I need to feel you-" and a part of you cringed at how desperate you sounded, like whiny slut. Toby didn't mind, why would he? You sounded like a fucking pornstar and he knew it wouldn't be long until he was seeing stars and coating his knuckles in his warm, white liquids.

"Fuck, keep talking," he grunted as his hips bucked into his hand, almost helplessly fucking the palm of his hand. He could only imagine how fucking good your pussy would feel wrapped around him, how wet he would make you, how good he could make you feel. His command did things to you, the way he spoke through gritted teeth and there was a tightness forming not just in your lower abdomen, but in your thighs as well. For a brief moment, your fingers moved from your clit to your dripping cunt, coating your fingers to coat your clit in your wetness. You were torn, wanting to feel something inside you and wanting to give your clit attention; you'd cum either way regardless.

You began to mumble incoherent whimpers, praising him and uttering his name like sweet nothings; words dripping in poison that would intoxicate Toby more and more. Your grip on the phone began getting looser as you felt the warmth rush to your cheeks, your own hips rolling against your fingers in a desperate attempt to reach your orgasm.

"Toby- please make me cum, please-.." you cringed hearing yourself so squeezed your eyes shut. You could feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper into your pillow, a rush of blood creeping across your face and almost making your head spin.

Your words were the tipping point for Toby, and with one final grunt and thrust, stringy ropes shot up and out across his knuckles. "Nng- Ffuck-" he slurred on his own words, the warmth of his own cum sending shockwaves and ripples up his abdomen.

While Toby rolled out the end of his orgasm with some slow thrusts, you hadn't yet reached that phase as you helplessly humped your own fingers, breasts bouncing with each roll out that your hips gave. You were a desperate, panting mess as you tried to quieten and muffle each moan that dared to escape from you. Despite feeling satisfied himself, he knew he couldn't be a dick and leave you hanging on the edge of your orgasm - hell, he could though. Your moans were just good to miss however and quickly his focus returned to you as he came floating back down from his own high.

"The thing's I'd do to-to-… to you-" he choked out, surpassing a tic almost painfully. "I'd love to make you scream," he uttered, his voice lusty with a hint of something else. You hadn't noticed it at the time, but there was a sense of darkness that lingered in the back of his throat. His words having more meaning than a simple mission to get you to orgasm. Your head spun as the muscles in your thighs tightened, your hips bucking violently against your fingers as you reached the height of your own release. There were stars, a soft, long drawn out groan escaping deep within you as your hips continued to buck; a little softly as you rode out the very last of your orgasm. Your fingers rolled your clit until it became nothing but a sensitive bud, sending little jolts as you gasped, feeling sweaty against the mattress of your bed. The sound was music to his hears as he listened, the phone pressed so hard against his ear that for any other person it would've hurt.

"Fuck-" you gasped softly after each pant, allowing your body the time and space to recover.

"I'd love to bash your pretty, little head in with one of my hatchets."

And you felt your once steaming hot body turn into a cold flush, your breath hitching in the back of your throat. Had he really said that? Or was it more background noise from the horror film he was watching? Toby chuckled, it's friendliness vanishing in thin air before you as his demeanour became cold; uninviting. Your brows furrowed, too speechless to form a coherent thought. Was it just.. a kink thing? Was he.. fuck, like roleplaying or something? You were grasping at any explanation before you.

"What." Was all you could muster up, a measly whisper.

"I enjoyed talking to yo-ou. I'll be honest, never done this b-bb-before with most girls, I wooould've let you live… but work is work, you'll understand. Oh," he scoffed. "No, you won't but I'll see ya around, yeah?" And Toby hung up. Leaving you in a state of confusion.

Toby Rogers. Toby Rogers. You repeated it over again, sitting up on your elbow, brows furrowing and staring out into the darkness of your room. Toby Rogers - that name was on the news just the other week, you could've sworn it. The news anchor mentioning something about.. him murdering his Dad.. being a mass criminal.. and how he was still missing after all those years.

And you just had phone sex with him.

sorry if this seems rushed, still trying to find my lingo when it comes to writing smut.

will be a bit mia for the next days, but asks are open (just may take a lil while for me to answer them.) i originally planned for this to be shorter, but i have this weird habit of where once i start writing, i legit cannot stop.

[puppy-eyyes]

The Chosen (Jungkook x Reader)

Preview:

A village in the woods. Creatures made of shadows. An unwilling contract. She always felt his presence—the weight of his gaze—but never tried to escape. He watched, waited... and finally tricked her into giving what he needed to claim her.

Pairing: Yandere Jungkook x Reader

Word count: 4k.

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Manipulation, Forced Relationship, Kidnapping, Mention of sacrifices, Fear, light smut, will add more for next chapter.

Author's note: Hi there. This is my first fic. I TRIED! It was supposed to be a one shot, but decided to split in two or three chapters. We'll see. The supernatural beings were inspired by Wildwood Dancing and Heir to Sevenwaters by the incredible Juliet Marillier.

PART I

Bloodbark, 15th Century.

The village sat like a forgotten relic, nestled between the blackened trees of the endless forest. Its cobbled streets were uneven, worn down by centuries of footsteps and wagon wheels, and the air always carried the thick scent of burned wood, damp moss, and iron. 

The houses were old, their timber frames warped by time, their roofs sagging under layers of thatch and moss. The narrow alleyways between the buildings were cloaked in shadows, places where light seemed to hesitate, and where villagers hurried past without daring to look too long.

In the market square, merchants sold rough bread, dried meats, and bitter herbs beneath weathered canvas stalls, their voices hushed, their eyes flicking toward the towering Old Tree at the village’s center.

The Old Tree.

It stood twisted and massive, its bark blackened and scarred with deep, unnatural grooves—marks that no villager dared explain. No fruits, no leaves, no life. Just a skeletal thing, looming over the square, casting long, claw-like shadows that stretched across the cobblestones.

Long ago, when the land was still young, the massive tree gave enough fruits to feed the village. But on one moonless night, a mark, black as ink, thick as oil, appeared on its trunk. The fruits became rotten, and the villagers felt eyes on them at every single moment. They thought it was a prank of the troublemakers of a neighboring village and paid no mind to the mark.

By morning, the first child was gone, and a message was left behind. The black mark would return during the new moon, a warning that the Night People would need to be fed again. 

The Night People are not like any creatures they know. They are shadows made flesh, with eyes that see through walls and voices that only the wind can carry. Some say they were once men, and others that they are the very embodiment of darkness.

The villagers do not fight. They do not resist. They leave their offerings at the tree, whispering prayers to gods who do not answer. 

One mark meant they needed a man. Two marks meant they required a woman.

And if there was a third mark, smeared across the door or window of a villager’s home?

It meant the Night People had already chosen.

The villagers would do what was necessary, the only solution is to send a sacrifice into the woods. They resorted to kidnapping outsiders and kept them as possible offerings as a way to preserve the inhabitants.

It was better to give the sacrifice willingly than to risk the creatures taking more.

But once the mark was placed on a home, the family had no choice. No one dares to trick them, for the Night People always know, they are always watching.

Park family home, a day before the new moon.

The farm sat on the village’s outskirts, where the land bled into the forest’s edge. The house was old, but spacious enough for a family of four. It was the worst option the Park family could find.

Y/N knelt near the chicken coop, scattering feed to those little feathered monsters. The birds pecked greedily, while the girl was impatient to return to her room. She hated being outside.

There it was again.

That feeling.

The weight of unseen eyes pressing against her skin, sinking into her bones like a sickness.

Her fingers twitched around the bag of grain. She didn’t turn around. Didn’t lift her gaze toward the forest that loomed beyond the crooked fence, where the trees grew too close together and the shadows stretched.

It had been this way since she came to Bloodbark.

A year ago, the flood had taken everything—her family’s farm, their animals, the land they had lived for generations. When they arrived in Bloodbark, the villagers welcomed them with wary eyes and whispered warnings, but no one turned them away. Her parents looking defeated, the young woman carrying her little brother in her arms. 

They could have had the same fate as the people locked in the main barn: the sacrifices, but her father was a strong man and her mother had a way with words. They would become what they call as The Hunters: people who attacks and snatch outsiders.

The villagers gave them land, a place to rebuild. 

The first time she felt observed was on her second day, while assisting on settling in. Surely, the villagers probably were observing the newcomers as a freak attraction. No one was in sight.

At first, Y/N thought the unease would pass, but every once in a while she felt that feeling again, sometimes accompanied by a scent - something cold, sharp, and sweet all at once. Like the breath of the forest before a storm.

At this point, she doesn’t even look around anymore. She knows the rules. The Night People never come out during the day.

“Y/N! Hurry up! Dinner is almost ready!” she hears her mother yelling from the window. “Bring eggs if you can find any!”

She laughed. A normal family in such an abnormal place.

Y/N focused on gathering the eggs in her apron and walked back to her house.

The kitchen was warm, filled with the rich scent of stew and fresh bread, but it did little to shake the cold that clung to Y/N’s skin. She set the eggs on the wooden counter, rubbing her arms as she watched her mother move about, ladling thick broth into bowls.

Her father sat at the head of the table, looking out of the window, his brows drawn in quiet focus. Her little brother, Sunwoo, kicked his feet beneath the table, swinging his legs too short to reach the ground. He was humming, oblivious to the unspoken dread hanging in the air.

They all knew what night it was. Hopefully, it would be another month without a demand

Her mother finally sat, smoothing her apron before folding her hands together. “Some stew to keep us warm,” she said, voice light.

The stew tasted good—her mother’s cooking was always heavenly. Their family laughed, ate, and bickered like always—just another evening, just another meal.

If she focused on the familiar rhythm of it all, she could almost forget the iron bolts on the doors, the salt dusting the windowsills.

Sunwoo, swinging his legs beneath the table, slurped his soup obnoxiously.

“Eat properly,” their father muttered without looking up, splitting bread in his hands.

Sunwoo grinned. “I eat properly.” The three-year-old already had a feisty personality.

Y/N snorted. “You sound like the neighbor’s horse.”

Their mother shot them both a look, though her lips twitched. “Sunwoo, don’t play with your food. Y/N, be nice.”

“Why?” Sunwoo asked, still grinning. “Horse eats well.”

Their father sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, but Y/N caught the slight shake of his shoulders—he was holding back a laugh.

For a moment, the heaviness in the room lifted. The stew filled their stomachs, the warmth of the fire softened the night’s chill, and the walls of their home felt safe.

Beyond the glow of their home, where the forest swallowed the last light of day, he watched. A tall figure stood at the treeline, leaning against the bark of a tree, arms folded, his posture deceptively relaxed. Patient. Certain. His dark eyes never strayed from the young woman at the table, her laughter slipping through the cracks in the walls, wrapping around him like a whisper.

She looked so at ease. So unaware.

Jungkook exhaled slowly. He had waited a year, observed her every move, every emotion, and invaded almost every dream.

He had waited long enough.

The dream had become familiar, like a secret she had visited many times before.

She stood near the edge of a dark, still lake. The water stretched out before her, reflecting the faint outline of the waning crescent moon, barely visible, a thin sliver of silver light cutting through the sky. The forest behind her stretched on in shadow, its towering trees reaching out like twisted fingers, enclosing her in a world that felt both familiar and terrifyingly unknown.

A house loomed nearby, she already knew the place— an intriguing structure, yet strangely inviting. Dark glass windows reflected the faint moonlight, glimmering with an eerie, almost unnatural glow. It was a place meant for creatures like him, where the line between what was real and what was not blurred.

The scent of wet earth lingered in the air as she took a hesitant step towards it. And then, it was there—the weight of a hand on her waist, slow and deliberate, as though testing the very limits of her space. Her breath caught in her throat, but she didn’t move. She never did. Not here.

A figure emerged, tall, cloaked in darkness. His form was made of shadows, of smoke, shifting in ways that defied the world she knew. His eyes—though she could never see them clearly—felt like they pierced right through her. His very essence seemed to demand her attention, to pull her closer, even as she fought it.

“Did you miss me?” His voice slid through the air like silk, smooth and dangerous.

She didn’t answer at first, she knew exactly what would come next… and how she enjoyed it everytime. With her silence, the creature pulled her into him. His body, or whatever part of him was tangible, pressed against her. He was warm and cold all at once, like the night itself was alive. She shivered, but not from the chill.

“You ignored me today once again,” his voice murmured, low and dark against the curve of her neck. The touch of his lips there sent a tingle down her spine, a shudder that made her breath catch. His touch was intoxicating She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t want this, but she did. His hands slid down her side, claiming her without words.

He pulled her closer, his lips ghosting over her skin. “It’s time for us to be together,” he whispered in her ear, his breath so cold it raised goosebumps on her skin. “Give me your name, and we can end this waiting.”

Y/n felt his fingers trace around her breast, teasing her nipples even with her nightgown separating them. For the past year he has been teasing her body, touching her in places she never thought someone would make her feel good. Always edging, but never completely giving what she needed.

His other hand traced the path of her lower back and moved forward, fingers going straight to her core and teasing her entrance. “Give me what is mine and I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

She gasped, the words dancing on the edge of her tongue. Y/n felt the wetness pooling in the fabric separating his fingers from her core.

His lips were so warm against her skin, making the straps of the nightgown fall down her arms. She wanted to touch him, tangle her fingers into his hair while she delights in the feeling of his mouth in her breast. He made it hard to think, hard to pull away. He felt… real in ways she didn’t understand.

“Your name. It’s the only thing you need to give to me and I’ll give you what you seek” she heard his silky voice, her mind lost in pleasure. 

“Y/N…”The name slipped from her lips before she could stop it. The moment it left her mouth, her breath hitched, her chest tightening in horror, as if the very air around her had turned to ice.

His smile—if it could be called as such —spread, and she felt it deep within her, like a seed planted in the dark soil of her soul.

“No…” She stumbled backward, her heart racing in panic, fumbling with her flimsy clothing. The weight of her mistake hit her like a crashing wave. “No, no, no…”

With a sudden force, she pushed him away and turned, running for the house. Her bare feet slapped against the cold earth as she fled, the sound of his footsteps following her, like a silent shadow. She reached the door of the house, her hands shaking as she fumbled with the old wood, throwing it open and slamming it shut behind her.

Y/N shut her eyes closed, trying to disappear if she could. But then, the air grew still. Silent. The shadows no longer moved.

A loud sound woke her up. The clatter of metal—pots, pans. Her mother’s voice called out softly in the house. Y/N blinked, her eyes snapping open. She was back in her room, in her bed, safe. The faint sound of her mother moving about the kitchen lingered in her ears.

It was just a dream…

The Night People don’t come inside.

They never come inside.

But for the first time, Y/N wasn’t so sure.

Y/N’s footsteps echoed softly on the cobbled streets as she made her way to the market. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a rare amber glow over the somber village, but the warmth felt distant. The air was thick with a mix of fear and anticipation, as though the village itself was holding its breath, waiting for something inevitable.

When she arrived at the square, her gaze immediately found the towering Old Tree.

Her heart sank, but only for a moment. Two black marks marred its ancient bark. No one spoke of it directly, but they didn’t need to. The marks were a demand. The Night People requested a woman—any woman.

The offering would be one of The Herd—or, as Y/N had always thought of them, the “people from the barn.” Outsiders, kept in captivity for this very purpose. It was cruel, but the village had long since made their peace with it. It kept them alive.

For a fleeting second, Y/N felt a bitter taste in her stomach. She would have expected more… discomfort, maybe guilt. But that feeling was quickly suppressed, buried beneath something more practical. With the new marks, the village wouldn’t have to sacrifice one of their own. She allowed herself a brief, almost imperceptible exhale.

It was sick, but it was survival.

The others had already lost so much. First Soojin, then Minju, and finally Jeonghan. None of them had deserved it. But the world didn’t care. They had all been given, or taken, as the Night People demanded. It was just the way it worked.

"Y/N!" Wonhee’s voice sliced through the haze of her thoughts.

Y/N turned to see her friend walking toward her, her face taut, a mixture of exhaustion and relief. She spared a glance at the Old Tree, and Y/N watched her eyes flicker with something like dread before she looked away.

“Did you see?” Wonhee asked, her voice low, almost incredulous. “Two marks this time.”

Y/N nodded, almost absently, her gaze flicking back to the tree. 

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, her voice emotionless. "I saw."

Wonhee exhaled sharply, shaking her head as she came to stand beside Y/N. Her eyes were wide with something like disbelief, but there was no surprise in Y/N’s gaze. She had seen this before. "I never thought it would come to this," Wonhee continued, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N glanced around at the villagers, noting their unease. They were avoiding eye contact, the quiet whispers of their guilt hanging in the air like a fog. They knew what this meant.

“The Herd... They’re people, too,” Wonhee murmured, as if trying to justify the suffering.

Y/N didn’t flinch. It wasn’t her problem. Not really. "It’s better this way," she said, her tone flat, almost clinical. "At least it’s not one of us."

Wonhee shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line. "It doesn’t make it any less cruel. The village can’t keep using them like that,” she whispered, her gaze drifting toward the barn. “They’re not just cattle, Y/N."

Y/N didn’t look at the barn. Her mind was already far ahead. She couldn’t afford to feel anything for them. It wasn’t just her survival—it was the village’s survival. And if the price was cruelty, so be it.

“I know,” she murmured, though the words felt hollow in her mouth. "But... they’re not the ones we have to protect."

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, but Y/N barely noticed. Her thoughts were already elsewhere, moving through the motions of the day.

Wonhee broke the silence. “We kept hearing Jeonghan’s mother every night after he was sent into the woods. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget her wails… Her second son in two years," she said quietly, her voice thick with sorrow.

Y/N felt a flicker of something, but it was too fleeting. She had learned not to let herself be affected. There was nothing to be done, after all. “I’m sorry,” she said, not really meaning it. She didn’t know what else to say.

The conversation stilled, and no more words were needed. They both knew the truth. The Night People demanded their sacrifices. The village would give them what was required. And that was all there was to it.

"I need to go back to the farm," Y/N said, her voice breaking the stillness. "I have to get back to work and take care of Sunwoo."

Wonhee nodded, her eyes lingering on the tree one last time. "Take care of yourself, Y/N."

Y/N gave her a tight smile, but her mind was already elsewhere as she turned and walked away, heading toward the path leading back to the farm.

The day wore on, the sunlight beginning to dip below the horizon as Y/N worked tirelessly in the fields. The soil beneath her fingers was familiar, as was the rhythmic motion of plucking weeds from the ground. In the small breaks she allowed herself, she would sit on the grass, her younger brother Sunwoo tucked beside her, his small hands picking at the blades of grass as she brushed the sweat from her brow. She would laugh and joke with him, trying to create a normal environment for him.

But it was when the sun began to sink low, casting an amber glow across the land, that the sense of foreboding returned. The air grew cooler, and the shadows of the trees seemed to stretch longer, like the fingers of something waiting.

"Sunwoo?" she called out, scanning the field, her heart giving a quick, erratic thump in her chest when she didn’t see him nearby. “Sunwoo!” she called again, louder this time, panic rising in her throat.

"Y/N... Y/N, come here!"  She heard his voice, too clear and too familiar, carried through the air, but there was no sight of her brother. The urgent call of her name drifting from the edge of the woods, where the trees thickened into darkness.

Her heart skipped a beat, unease crawling up her spine. She looked toward the shadowed line of the forest, but the trees remained still, offering no hint of movement.

It wasn’t like him to wander off, not this far. Her feet moved of their own accord, urgency propelling her forward. She didn’t think, not once, as she ran toward the woods, the trees swaying gently in the evening breeze. The stillness felt… unnatural. The shadows, longer now, seemed to press closer around her, as though they were alive, watching, waiting.

Her pulse quickened. She couldn’t feel Sunwoo, not anymore. Actually, there was no sound at all. The space ahead of her had become vast, dark, lifeless.

And then, she heard it.

A soft chuckle. A voice, smooth like velvet, but so dark it sent a chill through her. “You’re finally here,” it said, low and reverberating.

Y/N froze, the blood in her veins running cold. She recognized the voice, the scent in the air—the smoky, intoxicating fragrance that clung to him, a heady mix of something dangerous. It was him.

She whirled around, her breath catching in her throat. And there he stood, a tall man, face sculpted like an expensive art piece. His dark, penetrating doe eyes—seemingly innocent but filled with an unsettling darkness—locked onto hers. His figure was fluid, like smoke that had taken shape, his presence suffocating, as though the very forest itself bent to his will.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips before she could stop it. “You…” she whispered, her legs trembling beneath her. The shadow man. The one from her dreams. He was real.

"I’m Jungkook, my dear," the man said, a smile curling at the edges of his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I told you it was time to be fully mine.”

The words echoed in her mind, and before she could comprehend the full meaning, her body reacted on instinct. She turned, heart hammering, and ran. She pushed through the trees, branches scraping at her skin, her breath ragged in her throat. But no matter how fast she ran, the woods seemed to stretch endlessly. Every direction led to the same place—a deepening darkness.

“Y/N...” His voice rang out again, closer now, as if he had always been right behind her, waiting. She could feel the weight of his presence, the pull of it.

Suddenly, she stumbled, avoiding falling to the ground. Her chest rose and fell in quick, panicked breaths as she looked around, her eyes wild, searching for some way out. But there was nothing. The shadows had thickened. The forest had turned into a maze that swallowed her at every turn.

Then, she felt him. His presence so close, just a breath away. His hand brushed lightly over her shoulder, the touch like ice. A shiver shot through her body as his voice echoed in her mind.

“I’ll take you to our home, Y/N,” he murmured, his breath cool against her ear. “You already know the place, been there hundreds of times in the past year.”

“No,” she gasped, trying to twist away from him. “There was no mark on my home, on my window! You can’t take me, I’m not a chosen one” she desperately tried to win her case.

Jungkook’s fingers dug into her wrist, holding her in place with a force she couldn’t break. He chuckled darkly, low and slow. “It doesn’t matter whether a mark was left in your family home, Y/N,” he said, his voice smooth and almost tender. “With or without a mark, you willingly gave me your name. You willingly gave yourself away.”

Her breath hitched as realization struck her like a bolt of lightning. She tried to pull away, but his grip was iron, unyielding.

“No...” she whispered again, the truth settling like a heavy stone in her chest. “I didn’t mean to... I didn’t mean to…”

“You gave me your name, Y/N,” he murmured, his breath cool against her ear. “You belong to me now.”

Jungkook stepped closer, his smile widening, revealing just how much he relished this moment, like he was savoring being able to finally claim her. The prize he’d been waiting for. His lips parted slightly, a twisted, almost gleeful expression crossing his face as he leaned in, his breath cool against her skin.

“You can try to escape, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerously sweet, like a predator toying with its prey. “But there’s no way out. You’re mine. You always were.”

The dark gleam in his eyes grew, something feral awakening in the depths of them. He leaned in closer, until his breath was a whisper against her ear. “Your name… it was the last thing you had to give. And now you’ll stay with me forever.”

Her legs trembled beneath her, her body betraying her as she felt a pull toward him, like gravity, an inevitability that made her want to fight even harder. But she knew now. She was bound, marked—not by a visible symbol, but by the act of her own surrender.

to be continued…

[rosesnbooks]

Astrology observations #5🖤

🌜I wrote these for fun, based on how i see these placements. i'm not a professional! hope you enjoy these🌛

⭐cancer placements allow themselves to feel their emotions. they may get annoyed by the intensity or the amount of them, but they process them fully, and this makes it easier for them to move on. random thought but writing letters to people they like may be something they do or did as kids haha. they're very romantic

⭐some aries venuses have obsessive tendencies when they have a crush, and they get frustrated a lot if they think they can't/shouldn't pursue them. they enjoy the tension, but they don't want it to last too long because they dislike not being in control, and having feelings for someone leaves them feeling too vulnerable. that's why they try to move on if they can, but it takes work. when they do find someone, they become really clingy but they still need freedom when it suits them

⭐mars in libra avoid conflicts and try to be reasonable about everything, but if they think you crossed a line, you'll see why aries is their sister sign pretty soon. once they tell you off, you'll never see them the same way, so underrestimate them at your cost

⭐having stelliums can be interesting. it for sure puts a lot of emphasis on the influence of that house on your life, and i found that it can be both positive and negative since they face lots of challenges related to their house but also many blessings. those who have stelliums kind of embody multiple characteristics simultaneously

⭐sun in the 11th people glow when they are with their closest friends. they also tend to dream big and care a lot about the world. their friends usually help them in their future goals. they feel a bit different than people in their hometown/country, mostly because they cannot be tied down to a single culture because they enjoy different things, which usually makes them quite open-minded and tolerant. they can be picky about the people they let in super close though

⭐mars in the 6th can procrastinate a lot actually, but they get things done. may get sudden waves of high energy and get things done rapidly and extensively. they expect a lot from themselves regarding their ambitions and aspirations. they try to improve themselves in any way most of the time, but they should also accept their current state if they want to evolve and love themselves. they need to watch out for their moral perfectionism too. it's okay to make mistakes as long as you apologise and strive to change for the better

⭐i've found that virgo mercuries can be really direct, even if they are shy or don't talk much around strangers or acquaintances, they have their moments. super funny too

⭐north node in cancer struggle with accepting their vulnerable side. they hate feeling like things and people can evoke strong emotions in them. they want to be more detached, but those that work on themselves find it very rewarding once they embrace their strong emotions. they can also be really reliable, practical, and thoughtful

⭐fire+water combinations in birth charts-i am sending you a hug. i know exactly how difficult it is to keep all those emotions under check, and that you need a lot of understanding and rest to function. use those emotions and passions well hun, you are strong and capable. you have a lot of empathy and wonder inside of you

⭐capricorn sun/mercury have a dry way of texting. their humor is difficult to read via text and they simply are not fans of texting, and it shows lol

⭐aries mercuries are not always available online and they may come and go when they're online, but they'll answer all of your messages one by one with lots of enthusiasm. they also like to send memes and joke around a lot

⭐virgo mercuries are not fans of texting and they can answer you after a couple of days or so even if they really like you. similarly to aries, they'll make sure they answer everything and they also pay attention to every detail you mention. very sweet really. their humor shines brighter in person

⭐taurus moon are very capable. they may prefer rest over anything else, but their patience and dedication to the things they need to do is really cool. they are calm most of the time so it's nice to be around them, just don't disrespect them and everyone will thrive

⭐taurus venus men can be really possessive. even if you like such behavior, some can go to extremes and try to control how you feel, think, and behave. they have a specific image of an ideal partner and they want you to fulfill it

⭐libra venus tend to care about how they look and present themselves so they put lots of effort into that. they also have standards when it comes to beauty and some expect others to dress and look well, whether they know them or not

⭐women with venus in aquarius-you may be attracted to men who are mysterious and act like they're special. just be careful because there are so many toxic ones out there who want a relationship but not truly, because they don't want to dedicate themselves to you and maybe plan on using you

⭐pisces moon can feel like they're drowning in their own emotions sometimes because they cannot control them easily and they tend to give in. if they like to portray themselves as a martyr these emotions can get out of hand because they let those emotions lead them which influences their mental health and relationships. those who are developed process these emotions and try to figure them out and let them pass. they can learn a lot about themselves and others this way. creative outlets can be of help to process this

⭐leo moon need to watch out for hurting people when their ego is hurt because they can lash out and make lots of damage. take a second to think whether it's worth it or not, since there is no point in trying to "win" in a fight with someone you love

⭐pisces mars can be too forgiving, especially to those they care about. don't let people walk over you dear, no matter who they are. nobody deserves that kind of treatment

thank you for reading!🤍i also offer paid astrology readings, so check out my blog for more info

©rosesnbooks

[gothamundernightlight]

Random Shit the Waynes Do on Social Media

Dick:

- The white whale of D1 and Olympic gymnastics athletes; always stitches their stunts and challenges, executing them perfectly, but no one knows who he is or who trained him

- Shares pictures of random children, and the whole internet becomes a detective trying to figure out if Bruce Wayne adopted another kid or if his gymnastics students won another trophy

- Photo montages of Haley being the cutest, which slowly transitions into Haley in whatever cute hat the internet can send to Dick’s PO Box

- Random video of him skydiving while giving tips on what to do if your chute doesn’t deploy. He never deploys his chute doing the video and no one can tell if it’s a bit or not.

Jason:

- AI Voiceover text posts providing surprisingly insightful analysis into classic literature

- A full six part rant on the Broadway adaptation of “The Great Gatsy”

- Random selfies complete with wildly made up backstories of any and every new injury he has

- Prank war on Damian specifically (this was intended for Talia but his finger slipped and now the whole internet loves it)

Tim:

- Randomly goes live to do study/work/research with me sessions complete with an actually decent Lofi soundtrack that no one can find (He totally mixes it himself but won’t admit it)

- Did ONE social media vlog for WE’s marketing division and it went so viral he gets forced to do more. The dead eyed stare he gives the camera with every stupid dance the intern teaches him makes the video top-tier

- Cute couples videos with Bernard

- Skateboard tricks (and fails)

- Screenshots of text conversations between him and his siblings discussing the most random shit??

Cass:

- Dance routines/pre-show/GRWM videos

- Shakily filmed videos of her kicking Dick’s ass and everyone just calls her a baddie in the comments. She doesn’t know what that means but she appreciates the love.

- Her and Steph’s late night food runs with the two of them just belting out to a song in a dark parking lot

Steph:

- Posts riddles and puzzles and how to solve them. She’s really good at it. Riddler hates her.

- Apartment tour of all the purple shit she owns. She’ll never admit that the room she’s showing off is her Wayne Manor bedroom, so everyone believes she just has a moderately sized loft apartment somewhere and she just never shows the kitchenette

- Her and Cass’s late night food runs with the two of them just belting out to a song in a dark parking lot

- POV shots of her going up to the boys asking them random questions. Dick matches her energy. Jason tells her to fuck off. Tim is barely conscious. Damian always has an overly rational answer to take the fun out of it. Duke just stares blankly at her (he always comes back later with a proper answer now that he’s had time to think about it). Bruce just stares blankly at her

Damian:

- Art reveals that never get many views but he’s still proud of nonetheless. Dick always comments on them to hype him up

- Accidentally recreates a popular vine that went viral and it’s just him insulting fellow GA kids under his breath but one of them says hi to him and he’s instantly polite back. His most popular video

- The multi-part experiment of him trying to Pavlov Tim, and when it actually works, Tim just chases Damian around the manor. The video cuts to black frames after Tim takes a flying launch at him

- All the pet videos. There are so many. People try to cancel him for exploiting them, but Damian clearly demonstrates that he would never force his animals to participate for views and how they will just leave if they don’t want to do something. Batcow is in the background just two-stepping unprompted

Duke:

- Every morning without fail, he posts a daily sunrise pic of Gotham, with a positive affirmation caption. One day he’s sick and he wakes up to a thousand messages of people panicking because their favorite poster has disappeared. He never misses a sunrise again

- Passionate rants about local government. Will not shut up about it. He might be an anarchist, but he’s forever remain optimistic that one day the systems that define society will one day actually work for all people. Bruce has every single one saved so he can implement Duke’s ideas into reality

- Boxing videos of him training with Luke. It’s never meant to be a thirst trap…but sometimes it is

- Dumb selfies. Duke unironically loves taking them, no matter what face he pulls, what filter he uses, not even caring where he is. This gets him in trouble the one time he posts one of him leaning off the edge of a high rise roof

Babs:

- Constant lectures on cybersecurity and internet safety. She teaches this at the library as a volunteer but feels she can reach a lot of people by building a platform

- Computer build stuff. Brands reach out to her for her reviews and she thoroughly discusses each product in length

- Rarely posts about her disability, but absolutely tears people to shreds when they make ableist comments about her. The only time she brings it up first is when City Hall takes over a month to fix their elevator and she calls them out on it

Harper:

- Electronics repairs. She constantly takes things apart to teach people how to fix it, and this can range from toys to cars. On more than one occasion , her video has been interrupted by someone who planned to be using the vehicle she’s just taken apart

- 2 AM hair dye/maintenance sessions. She constantly gets comments from men being like “Therapy works too, y’know” or “No, you’re so beautiful? Why would you do that to yourself.” She responds to the comments with a video of a gun pointed at the camera with the sole caption being “Fuck Off.”

- Gym videos. She and Dick work out together and he’s the ultimate hype man

- Outfit montages of her getting ready for a random gala and she’s always pulling off the most masc-looking suits that look gorgeous on her

Helena:

- Target practice. She does all kinds of trick shots and crazy crossbow stunts in a wide variety of outfits. Her most popular video is of her in a corset and platform heels.

- Her and Steph bonding over all things purple

- Outfit of the Day posts. The girl has expensive tastes and she absolutely shows it off.

Bruce:

- Occasionally does promo stuff for WE (because Tim refuses to do all of it, and their social media intern won’t back down)

- Shares absolutely wild stories from his college years that somehow always get proven to be true even when the whole comments section is just like “this seems false???”

- Kid tour. He saw one mom do it and felt sad bc he’s never get the kids to agree, but somehow they all did (Alfred bribed them.)

- Shares everything from each one of the charities he’s involved with. Has reposted every single one of their posts on his own personal channel. It raises them hundreds of followers each time.

- One of the kids posted a video montage of Bruce being Brucie and it’s so utterly humiliating? But he won’t delete it because all of the comments say he’s their favorite billionaire and that’s more than his own kids will say.

- Random Pride Month post. Every year it catches people by surprise and every gossip magazine always wonders if Bruce is coming out. He’s just being an ally (and potentially is in denial).

Alfred:

- Prefers not to use social media, but one of the boys filmed him doing random things to teach the internet how to do things properly, like making the bed, doing laundry, etc. Is the internet’s favorite grandpa.

[pukefactory]

•☽────✧˖°˖ VOCAL REMOTE ˖°˖✧────☾•

(COMMISSION)

★ Summary: A Compilation Of Headcanons Featuring Salesperson ENA X Reader Who Vocal Stims

★ Commissioner: @namosaga

★ Character(s): Salesperson ENA (ENA: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

☆ The first time you meowed mid-conversation, ENA blinked once, paused, and offered you a deal on faux cat ears.“Meow? How quaint! May I offer you a three-for-one promotion on emotional support accessories?” You’d blurted the sound without thought—a little chime of contentment—and she’d answered it with a business proposal, solemn yet too bright-eyed. You laughed. She did not. Her eyes narrowed at the sheer marginal profit loss of wasted dopamine. Later that day, when you meowed again, more stressed this time, Meanie barked, “OH, IS THAT YOUR DISTRESS CALL OR ARE YOU JUST BROADCASTING TO THE DAMN ANIMALS?” You didn’t answer. You just meowed louder. Somehow… that felt like mutual understanding.

☆ You have a habit of repeating her last words under your breath, like an echo that got lost and never found its way back. ENA always notices. “Let’s arrange our next ambush at the scene—” “Ambush at the scene,” you echo, soft, almost reverent. She tilts her head, intrigued. “Practicing for the pitch? Or just haunted by my phrasing?” You hum, dodge the question. But you catch her testing it later. She throws out complex words like bait—“extrapolate,” “obfuscate,” “phenomenological transcendence”—just to hear your little trailing voice imitate her like a living reply. Meanie, however, hates it when you mimic her yelling. “STOP IT!! NO, I SAID STOP IT!! NO, I SAID!! NO, I—!!!” You both go in circles until you collapse in laughter. She does not laugh, but she does shut up.

☆ You tap rhythms on the countertop like Morse code for people who never learned it. Your fingers go tap-tap… tap tap tap… tap— ENA pauses her tea-stirring. “Hm. Is that jazz or a secret complaint about your eggs?” You shrug. You don’t always know yourself. Later that week, she starts replying with percussive desk taps of her own. It becomes your thing. Communication without speech. Her dual-colored hands dance out rebuttals, agreements, warnings. Meanie once banged the counter so hard trying to “respond” she snapped a spoon in two. “I’M SENDING A MESSAGE TOO, DIPSTICK!!” The message was, presumably: aggressive affection.

☆ When you stim by circling around your words, starting sentences with three false starts, ENA listens like it’s poetry. “Today I was—so I was going to—I mean I was thinking about…” She finishes it for you, gently: “Getting the lemon cake? Getting lost in a daydream? Getting ready to cry?” All three were right. You sniffled and nodded. “I read between the ellipses,” she said, smug. “Consider me your translation service for complicated feelings.” Meanwhile, Meanie had already thrown the menu across the café. “FOR GØD’S SAKE JUST SPIT IT OUT! SPIT IT, HACK IT, LAUNCH IT FROM YOUR STUPID THROAT!” She didn’t mean it unkindly. That’s just her love language: verbal bashing with a side of simmering loyalty.

☆ You sometimes sing little songs under your breath—tuned nonsense, soft melodies with no lyrics. ENA pretends to critique your pitch. “Hmmm…could use more vibrato. Also, have you considered writing jingles for our future cult?” But she never interrupts. Never mocks. Never tells you to hush. In fact, the one time you stopped mid-hum and said, “Is this annoying?”, she immediately looked wounded. “Darling. Your noise is the only sound in this world that isn’t static.” You didn’t expect her to say that. You never told her, but you wrote it down and stuck it in your pillowcase.

☆ One day, when you asked her to sing back… ENA tried. It wasn’t melodic. It wasn’t good. ENA cleared her throat like she was about to deliver a corporate anthem and then started crooning a strange, clipped verse: “Profits in the moonlight, margins in your eyes, return on emotional investment—” You burst out laughing. She looked pleased. Later that night, Meanie howled her own song through the hall. Off-key. Screaming. It was about frogs and debt and possibly your name. It was, against all logic, deeply moving.

☆ On your overstimulation days, when your stims get loud, clicks, taps, words that loop like caught records—Meanie at first doesn’t get it. “YOU’RE JUST MAKING IT WORSE! DO YOU WANT TO BE A WIND-UP DOLL ON THE FRITZ?!” But you flinch. Go quiet. She pauses. Squints. “…Hey,” she mutters, kicking at the floor. “You can, uh. Do the thing. Just… not near my megaphone.” By the third time it happens, she builds you a personal sound corner. A little cardboard tent of peace. She calls it dumb, but she’s careful never to rip it.

☆ You once meowed in public, startled, anxious and someone laughed. You shrunk. Went quiet. ENA stepped in front of you immediately, blocking the laughter with a smile sharp enough to bleed. “Dear friend,” she said sweetly to the stranger, “were you planning on finishing your sentence or just chewing your own tongue in futility?” Then, to you, quietly: “Your voice is valid currency. They just tried to pay with lint.”

☆ There’s a special stim you only do when you’re around her: a soft little click at the back of your throat whenever she talks too fast. Click. Click. Click. Like punctuation. At first, she didn’t notice. Then she started slowing down mid-sentence. “Let’s—click—organize—click—our next—click—ambush—click—” “…Are you editing me in real time?” You grinned. Clicked twice for “yes.” She laughed. She actually laughed. “I should start charging for the service.”

☆ The day you had a meltdown, full noise, spiraling echolalia, screaming, panic, ENA didn’t leave. She sat with you. Right there on the tile. Meanie yelled at the noise, not you. “OH SHUT UP, YOU STUPID PANIC, STOP TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS!!” Salesperson held your hand. “This moment is not your enemy. It’s a very intense coworker. Shall I fire it?” You didn’t answer. You just clung. Eventually, the sounds softened. The static in your mind thinned. And ENA, both of her, remained. Because love isn’t silence. It’s who stays when the noise is at its loudest.

[misstycloud]

Hello! What if yan! Playboy saw reader again but with another guy and they are acting lovey dovey how would he react?

Not proofread!

-----------

He would freak out. He'd think about all those nights he laid awake in bed, wondering where you were or if you were even alive. Yandere playboy couldn't bear it if something has happened to you.

However, he didn't expect to receive the answer to his questions by seeing you being all snuggly with someone who's not him.

His first thought would be that he's happy you're safe, then the rage would come. It would take over his entire mind and be the only thing he could think of.

How could you just leave him like that? especially after he poured his heart out to you; and you acted like it didn't matter. Despite the deep feelings he held for you, he couldn't pretend like what you put him through was okay.

"(Y/n)." he said in a stern voice after marching up to you and your date.

You froze and slowly turned to see your love-victim looking furiously at you. You had been careful to not actually divulge any details about your personal life-nothing that could give him a tip on where to find you. Yet, here he was in the flesh.

"who are you? cant you see we're on a date?" your new partner voices, irritated at the interruption.

"I wasn't talking to you." the playboy hissed. He absolutely hated the other mans existence. Of course, he was mad at you too but his presence reminded him that you could leave him for someone else; that there was a chance he wasn't enough to please you.

You sighed and said, "Go away. I'm busy." you also swatted in his direction, making your opinion clear.

"where were you? why did you stop responding to me? you have no idea how worried I was."

"I think being ghosted should send a pretty clear message, dude. I DON'T like you and I'm not interested in you anymore so leave me alone." you combed your fingers through your date's hair. "I have someone else now."

The playboy clenched his fists. He gritted his teeth. "You're coming with me." his tone indicated you had no day in the matter.

You couldn't believe it. Who did this guy think he was. Sure, you knew he fell for you(hard), which was the purpose, but that did not mean he could think he owned you.

"No, like hell i'm going anywhere with you."

"Yes. You are."

"Dude, she said no. Back the fuck up.'' your date tried to defend you. Too bad he wasn't someone of importance, otherwise he might;ve had a real chance of taking you from him.

He glanced him up and down, clearly unimpressed. He couldn't fathom how you left him for someone like...this. Seriously? Was this truly what you desired in a partner or was it possible I was all a test? Did you do this in hope of him proving his dedication to your relationship?

Well, if that was the case then he would gladly prove his loyalty to you. You were the one he wanted to make his life partner and there was nothing else that could measure up to the emotions YOU made him feel.

You saw your former fling walk up to your date and lean in close. He whispered something in his ear that you couldn't hear. Your date's eyes widened and he went pale. The longer the playboy spoke, the more fearful he became. You did have a clue what was said but it clearly freaked him out- enough for him to bail.

He quickly excused himself and ended it with, "Don't bother calling anymore, I'm not interested in some triangle bullshit." before rushing off in a random direction.

"Looks like he wasn't as interested as he claimed to be, no need to feel sad though, you have me now." he grinned and wrapped an arm around your waist.

You pried it off you. "What did you say to him?"

"nothing that would have bothered him if he was actually serious about you."

"Stay away from me. I left you and I will never go back to you- I never even liked you, it was all fake. Don't you get it. I just wanted to get back at you for all the shit you've put people through."

He went quiet at your words. You scoffed and decided to walk away. However, before you could get more than two meters from him, he gripped your arm. You winced as his nails dug into your skin.

"ow! what the-"

"Don't be so rude , (Y/n). I don't think you realise whose feelings you've played with. I love you and I don't plan on going home without you." he hugged you close to his body, ignoring your struggles. "I understand how all this is simply karma for how I used to behave and I accept that, but I won't let you carry out your punishment. You will let me marry you, is that understood? Don't forget who I am- what position I have in society."

You felt your blood run cold.

His smile didn't reach his eyes. "You started a game you have no way of finishing."

[mejaemin]

헤어져 ( •̀ ᴗ •́ ) - pfu

wc: 1.5k

summary: pulling a “let’s break up” prank on bf!svt !! | pfu ver | hhu ver | vcu ver |

warnings: not proofread, breaking hearts UGH THEYRE TOO SOFT CUTIE FOR THIS I CANT, no real breakups, angst? kinda? not really? fear of breaking up, lmk if anything should fr be tagged

an: i lowkey hate how juju’s turned out … but it’s okay!!! i really wanted to get this done bc i found the req funny because just hearing the words “break up” reminds me of the kungkungdda video with atz yunho saying 헤어져… its lit been stuck in my head since the req came in

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

soonyoung

oh my love, he’d be so confused

you’re lucky the trend happens over text because if you did it in person and saw the pout on his face you’d give in right away !!!

he’s opening his phone after waking up in the morning, swiping his palm over his nose and the rest of his face before checking his notifications, when his heart drops

the first one, from you, saying “let’s talk” … quite ominous, no?

immediately he’s going to your house without asking to go and settle whatever he did right away.

you’ve already distracted yourself, staying busy with absolutely nothing while you leave your phone alone to build suspense. you nearly jump out of your socks when your front door starts wiggling, nearly falling out of the frame when it opens. turning around, you’re met with soonyoung, who’s extremely out of breath, clothes all mismatched as he stands in the doorway.

you rush over to him, “youngie, what are you-“

he cuts you off, grabbing you by your shoulders a little too roughly. his look is so intense yet anxious that he might put a dent in his forehead. “i’m really sorry. whatever i did, please forgive me. but you can’t- well you can, but- just please don’t break up with me, okay?”

immediately upon seeing his face, puffy from sleep and all wrinkled up in concern, you fold, taking him into your arms tightly. “oh soonie, i was joking, i promise.” you kiss his cheek, and his head turns so it lands on his lips. “you didn’t do anything, baby.”

he pulls his head back just enough to look in your eyes, eyebrow raised. “do you promise?”

with his cheeks between your palms you nod, pressing your lips to his forehead, holding them there to show you’re being genuine. “of course. i could never leave you, soonyoung.”

junhui

jun is always so quick to answer your text messages, leaving no time in between before answering you

clearly, when you send him a message saying “let’s break up”, his heart drops faster than it took for him to open the message.

immediately he’s sending a message, full of reassuring words.

“i’m so sorry that something happened to make you feel this way. i’ll be over shortly to talk about it, okay? hang tight, i’ll pick some stuff up on the way. just don’t give up, okay?”

you’re already regretting this at his words, feeling so much love for junhui and the way he takes you so seriously. he may be silly a lot of the time, but he handles serious moments so well. your heart genuinely hurts at the fact that he’s probably so worried right now, and all you’re doing is pranking him. when he gets here, you’ll make sure to give him relief.

there’s a knock on your door, and you rush to open it. junhui is standing there with a small bouquet of flowers and a bag with what appears to be snacks. “i know you might not be interested now, but here.. can we try fixing this?”

once you let him in he sets them down, and as soon as he turns around you’re taking his hands. immediately you’re confessing, seeing his unsure face. “juju.. i was joking. i saw people pranking on tiktok, and i-“

“ahh, i see. i was actually really scared just now.” he chuckles softly, cutting you off. “but forreal, it’s hard to tell tone over text. i’d rather you prank me like that in real life, okay?”

the anxiety fades away, and you’re both all smiles again. since he’s already with you, you sit down together for the rest of the night and spend it watching shows and eating what were supposed to be your break-up snacks.

minghao

we all know minghao’s heart is too tough for a prank as simple and common as this

of course, like anyone who’s madly on love, his heart will pick up at first, but he’s too observant!

you both established healthy methods to communicate the way you were feeling if something about the relationship made you uncomfortable, so when all these keywords and behaviors are suddenly thrown out the window his flags go up

you and him both take preserving the relationship and each other’s feelings seriously so you would never just say “i want to break up”

thus, he plays along

minghao is sitting across from you on the couch, reading a book when you call his name. he looks up, and when he hears you say you want to break up with him, an alarm goes off in his head. he closes the book and sits up straight, grabbing your hands to have a proper conversation.

“can i ask what makes you want to?” he’s so genuine, true concern in his eyes as he tries to hear you out.

you look in your lap, hiding your face while trying to keep up the theatrics. “i just.. don’t feel a spark anymore. i’m falling out of love.”

it’s that sentence that makes him realize what you’re doing. you both agreed that whenever a conversation of this scale occurs, you wouldn’t be vague about whatever you’re feeling. you’d communicate clearly, and make an effort to find a solution.

hiding his smirk, he nods, sighing heavily. “ah, okay. i understand. i’ll give you your space then.” he gets up, a solemn look on his face as he heads to your bedroom. as soon as his back is to you, he’s smirking, amused at the thought of waiting to see how long it’ll take before you crack.

clearly, it’s not long, because as soon as he shuts the door you’re up and running towards him. the door nearly breaks with how rushed you are at opening it, immediately crashing into him. “hao, oh my god, please, i was joking! don’t give me space, please, i don’t want it-“

he cuts you off, grabbing you by your chin to kiss you. “oh, i know, darling. i know every little thing about you, like what you do when you’re trying to trick me. now, let’s not do that again, okay? because i’ll gladly do it back.”

dino

just the idea of pranking chan in this way hurts your heart :(( he’s such a sweet boy !! however…

jeonghan waved quite the pretty penny in front of your face, claiming that it will be yours if you pull the prank on him.

you are very aware of chan being unable to catch a break when it comes to being pranked, but you could only pray that with this nice amount of money, he’ll understand

pulling the prank was definitely painful, though

you’re at an outing with chan and his brothers, hanging out at the porch of a getaway home with some of them. you’re by a fire, drinks in hand as you all chat. when chan notices that your cup is empty, he wordlessly takes it from you to go fill it.

as soon as he leaves, you feel a tap on your shoulder. turning your head, jeonghan is sitting next to you, waving his hand for you to lean in. “i’ll give you…” he digs into his pocket, finding nothing and then reaching into seungcheol’s, taking out a wad of cash and holding it in front of you. “this if you tell chan you want break up.”

immediately you’re looking at him with a bewildered look. why would you ever fumble the sweetest man in the world for money? he’s chuckling at your reaction, waving a hand dismissively. “all jokes, of course, but if you really get him i’ll give you all that. for real.”

jeonghan waves it in front of you once again, and you’ve seen how fat seungcheol’s wallet is. and a few of the digits on those bills were pretty large, so… chan will understand, right? maybe scaring him a little for all this will be worth it, right? you can go out together with your winnings…

you sigh, nodding your head. “fine. but if it ends bad, you’ll clean up the mess. and then i’ll kill you.” you smile, shaking his hand before turning to chan who finally returned.

he hands you your drink with a kids to your forehead before sitting down. “what were you guys talking about?” he’s smiling so sweetly at you, and it makes your heart literally hurt at what you’re about to do.

“chan, i think we should break up.” you’re almost grimacing at yourself, and at that sentence everyone around the fire stops talking. no way the couple who makes everyone believe in true love is about to split.

“um, what..? are you..” he can’t even finish his sentence, swallowing heavily as his vision almost starts shaking.

immediately, being unable to take the torture anymore, you turn to jeonghan, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him vigorously. through many complaints, whining and yelling at the elder, you grab the aforementioned money from his pocket.

triumphantly you kiss chan on the lips, pulling away and showing him your new prize. “i’m so, so sorry, channie, truly i would never break up with you, but look what he offered! please say you understand…”

immediately your boyfriend relaxes, eyes narrowing as he looks at the man behind you. “watch your back, han. seriously. that money almost went towards my funeral funds, i swear.”

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

[liplinerloser]

The coffin of Andy and Leyley

A long term relationship with either of them

(Spoilers for Decay Route, It’s a long one! My requests are open <3)

Minors DNI

Andrew Graves

He meets you in high school, when he could still be bothered to talk to people. You sit next to him in an English class, he catches you with your head in your hands after it’s over, and despite not knowing you or really giving a fuck about you, he bites. Asking if you were okay was apparently the wrong answer because you start sobbing.

At this point he’s ready to walk away, but he can hear through your tears that you’re struggling with your grades, and it’s all gone to shit. That peaks his interest, Andrew ‘academic validation’ Graves knows exactly what that feels like. Begrudgingly he asks if he can help you, seeing you perk up at the thought. He ends up keeping you around for reasons he can’t understand.

He’s attracted to vulnerability, although he would never admit it, it makes him feel more secure in his own abundance of issues. If he’s smarter than you it also makes him feel like the superior one in the relationship that you can rely on.

Doing an English degree, he’s obviously poetically romantic when he wants to be, writing you your own sonnets, or ranting on and on about the historical context fuelling an authors writing career while playing mindlessly with your hair. He’ll take a lot of candid pictures of you to keep just for himself.

Andrew uses relationships outside of his obvious family unit to distract from said family unit, and convince the barely functioning moral compass ticking at the back of his mind that he is normal, he’s proving it by being with you, and loving you, and wanting you. No matter how many times your touch makes his skin crawl with inexplicable guilt

You notice bizarrely he never seems to have much time for you, you’d heard from a friend of a friend, Julia was it? That was the norm for him, though she seemed reluctant to get into details. You’re sympathetic to your boyfriend, maybe he’s busy or has a difficult home life.

he introduces you to the only other person in his life, his little sister, “the bane of his existence”, the fire of his loins, lovingly nicknamed Leyley. You inquired about the parents but alas, they weren’t in the picture god rest their souls.

To absolutely no one’s surprise, she hates your fucking guts. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a man, a woman, or anything on the spectrum; the sight of you with her Andy makes her viciously nauseous, and she seeks to correct it at once.

Your time with Andrew will constantly be cut short, with Ashley feigning illness, fear of being home alone, desperate help for homework, or just missing her older brother. It doesn’t matter what she says, as soon as it’s said he could hardly throw a glance in your direction. Clearly if you make it long term you always enable this behaviour alongside him

Ashley will give you the girlfriend special. Blowing up your phone with god awful messages at a god awful time at night, sending you hundreds of letters, hell you’re sure you saw her in your window at night! Her pink eyes staring daggers into you. But alas Andrew is blind to his sisters actions, it can’t be her, are you saying she’s capable of such things?! How could you. And somehow by the end of the conversation, you’re apologising to him.

Any speaking ill of Leyley will not be tolerated, he raised her. Even if she can be a self proclaimed bitch at times, she’s his, and in his eyes you’re replaceable. During the relationship you’ll have to deal with both her abuse and his.

The rare times you do get him alone without Leyleys disturbance, you get to be in the presence of Andrew as opposed to Andy. His repressed fears and upfront attitude, a harsh 360 from the character he masquerades for the sake of his sister. He’s soft with you, gentle small gestures such as tucking stray hair behind your ears, or stroking his thumb across your knuckles while he holds your hand. You can’t shake the feeling though that he’s hiding something darker from you.

Once he realises you’re serious about the relationship and don’t have any issues with Leyley become a complete pushover just like Andy He tries to involve you more, to the point you basically live with the siblings in the apartment.

You notice some, unsavoury behaviour between the two, with Andrew perpetrating it, such as walking in on Andrew sleeping with his sister, coddling her like a teddy bear. Upon seeing you walk into the room his eyes flew open, sitting swiftly up before quickly explaining the “panic attack situation”.

It was bullshit. You weren’t stupid, he knew you weren’t stupid. But you loved him, and if you make it far enough in the relationship, he manages to work into your brain and guilt you into thinking it’s just a unique element of their sibling dynamic. Hell what would you know, even if you had siblings it’s just not the same

Where most people would’ve seen his manipulative side rear it’s ugly head, and tear loose of this creep, he manages to get to you. He gets you so fucking good, right where he wants you, with your stomach exposed and vulnerable that you feel like apologising for even getting Involved! You’re not so lucky as the one before you, nobody is going to pull you out, and you certainly can’t help yourself.

Andrew is passively abusive, to both you and Ashley; he’s passive aggressive, and gives you whiplash with his contradictory behaviour, sometimes using his bad moods to emotionally manipulate you into doing whatever he wants. Even the times you think he’s doing what you want, it’s usually because it serves him.

Andrew is smart, he knows it, but he’s not smart enough to admit he’s also capable of being a terrible person while also being a victim. The times you try to address his negative behavior he withdraws from you completely, before coming back due to his physical needs.

As much as he doesn’t feel the true love for you he knows should be burning in his chest, he needs you. He needs you for a sense of normalcy, for your comforting grasp and honeyed words, because without that he has nothing else to stop him from snapping. So you’re very important to the Grave duos coexistence.

Once it gets to a certain point in the longevity of the relationship, Andrew will feel like he needs something permanent to tie you down, especially if he becomes increasingly suspicious of you leaving. He’s not above baby trapping you to keep you exactly where he needs you. Besides, he raised Leyley, what’s one more.

Following from that he probably has a breeding kink, he likes the idea of something like a baby keeping you tethered to him permanently. Just like how his parents tried to shake him and failed, you’d never be free from him.

Andrew uses sex as a stress relief, in a similar bracket to the cigarettes. He’s fucked enough to know what he likes, and that’s all that matters.

He’s not particularly intimate, In the traditional sense, he’s hypersexual so he fucks a lot, but don’t expect him to lovingly gaze down at you while he pounds you into the pillow.

He knows your body inside out, knows what makes you tick, where you’re sensitive and what gets you moaning like a bitch. He knows how to work his tongue and have you crying to the ceiling forgetting any other problems you had.

You noticed he comes to you for sex a lot particularly after he argues with Ashley, you always just assumed he was Pent up and it was his way of dealing with stress.

When it all comes to an end I think there’s only two ways you’d be around to stay with Andrew, if he hasn’t already indulged in his sister and descended to the final layer of hell.

Either you know about Ashley with all that entails, and you choose to stay despite it all, then you allow Andrew to live his fantasy’s inside the house, and play a normal life when he leaves those four walls with you. You become his front, and to an extent, he can love you for that.

Or he has snapped, killed Ashley, and before he can kill himself, you walk in. You and your gummy spine help him dispose of her body, and then you become her replacement. You’ll start to notice gradually Andrew dresses you more often, in outfits following the formula of shorts, boots, some sort of sleeveless top, and a choker. He does your hair for you, a low messy ponytail. Eventually whatever your name was doesn’t matter anymore, you’re not you, you’re Ashley! His beloved Ashley, his dear sweet Ashley, His Ashley.

Cant stay like that forever though, his soul craves her, and you’re not her.

Ashley Graves

Unlike Andrew, Ashley makes no effort to get closer to you, because she knows there’s no point.

There was a time in her life that she had wanted to be social, wanted friends outside of Andrew and that bitch Julia ; but Everytime she tried to talk to new people it felt like an overbearing shadow loomed over her. The girls she did talk to were uncomfortable with her brother, and the guys didn’t even talk to her, they already knew the crack.

A lot of the reason her attachment to Andy was allowed to fester is because of this rotting social life. But you can change that.

You meet her through Andrew, specifically being part of his friend group during school, though closer to the other guys, you thought he was… nice? He’d decided to invite all of you over to continue their card game match. The issue is he hadn’t mentioned you being the new addition, thinking it pointless

Ashley being Ashley was seething, smoke steaming from her nose, blood shot eyes seething. Why hadn’t Andrew mentioned you?! Was he hiding something. And who was this floozie trying to take him away from her!

Ashley couldn’t hold on long with you in the apartment before having an outburst in front of the whole group, in turn making them uncomfortable; all the guys opted to go to someone else’s house to continue, but you couldn’t help worry for Ashley. Andrew assured you it was one of her Temper tantrums and walked off in a huff.

Following her into her room, you find her crumpled on the floor infront of her made bed, head stuffed down into the bedsheets, as sobs wracked her frame, your heart ached for the poor girl. You wondered what could have hurt her so much

“G-go away!! You’re just like the others hussies tryna steal him away from me! W-well you wont be able to, I won’t let you!” She shot up, despite the height difference clearly trying to intimidate you.

Oh! That was all it was! She was just a jealous younger sister scared of her brother having too many friends and not spending time with her anymore. A smile graced your face as you pulled her into a hug, she fought back like a wild raccoon but eventually warmed up to it. “I’d never steal your brother from you, Ashley. He loves you so much, I’m sure of it!”, unaware of the full extent of their relationship you felt confident in your statement.

It was enough to get Ashley’s tears to dry, and a small smirk on her face, you’d heard Andrew complain about her in the brotherly way, but she seemed like a little sweetheart!

Over the years you grew away from Andrew, went to different universities, did different courses, he split from the friend group where you stayed in touch. But you did end up getting closer to Ashley.

She felt relieved to have someone outside of Andrew that wasn’t also competing for his interest like Julia, and you didn’t judge her for anything!

She confided all the bullshit her parents did, or do, even the arguments she had with Andrew, expecting you to be fully on her side like she had gotten used to with Andy. But you weren’t, you were honest with her, told her things she needed to hear to be better, and yeah she fucking hated it, wouldn’t talk for a while.

But eventually the phone would ring, in a small voice she would mention how she apologised, or made up and moved on.

She felt different than she did with you than when she hung out with Andy, there wasn’t a pit that sat heavy in her stomach, a guilty gnawing feeling. She enjoyed sleep overs at your house when her parents were particularly overbearing, the relief of getting away from it, even Andrew bizarrely

Ashley always likes her affections for someone to be affirmed, oftentimes through physical touch and words of affirmation. She’s relieved she doesn’t have to force this out of you, you enjoy her company, her snarky remarks about people and her perspective. She takes comfort in cuddling with you on the couch watching some shitty tv and making a running commentary of it, something she stopped doing because it pissed Andrew off.

Ashley tells you the secret that’s “weighed on her soul” since she was a kid. About what happened to what’s-her-face. You’re dumbfounded that she was capable of something like that, but seeing the tears streaming down her face made you think otherwise, even if the sobs conveniently stopped when you held her. You felt awful thinking she lived with such a heavy action from when she was a child, with nobody to comfort her, but disgust overwhelmed your senses at the nature of the act. Locked in a box, in the dark, she probably cried for her mom in her last moments. But she isn’t here, Ashley is, and it’s Ashley’s pitiful expression you’re forced to gaze back at. Did she feel guilt of her constant rotting?

She’s surprised you don’t do anything about the Nina secret considering you knew Julia, her closest friend; she had assumed after worming it out of her you’d hold it over her head forever, forcing her to bend for you. But unlike others in the past you don’t, you don’t blackmail her or ignore it for bigger issues, you’re simply there for her, rather than for something from her.

Don’t get her wrong though, as soft as she can appear, shes just as capable of being manipulative as Andrew when it serves her. you were ruined by this secret too, bonded together with her by it forever.

Ashley’s attitude as a whole is a lot harder to shift than just with the power of friendship. It’s fucking draining. She will always find a way to start an argument, screaming that you don’t care about her and you don’t put effort in, then if you respond she blames her inadequacies, and how she’s a “terrible woman”. You try not to indulge these, rather hugging her, asking her to talk when she’s calmer, and leaving. It’s clearly insecurity and you want to help her rather than hinder her or feed into it like some people-

Unlike Andrew, a relationship with her doesn’t revolve around sex, At least on the terms of her wanting it. She would much rather get validation through other actions towards her, and if you use her you’re no different than other people. If you’re going to do it, be gentle with her, that’s all she wants.

However, despite not wanting anything from you physically, she can be quite mentally draining to be around, even she’s aware of this. She’s grateful you ‘put up with her’, she’ll never tell you that though! Hehe

She’s the type of person who enjoys having something personal to someone, like having inside jokes nobody gets, or matching bracelets. She’ll absolutely make those ugly mismatched bff bracelets and expect you to wear it like it’s woven with gold.

The only other person she’s ever had that kind of relationship with is Andrew, and having it with you made her feel so… normal?

Unfortunately in the end, Ashley is a product of her upbringing by Andrew, all her behaviours and irrational fears, her attachments, they were all planted far too early on for you to even fathom changing them. No matter how long you stay by her side, treat her like an individual rather than a concept, care for her with your full heart, she cannot help crawl back to Andrew. It’s in her blood.

Nobody gets her like he does, and you’ll never know her fully unless you know the ins and outs of him too; an impossible task. Andrew knows this too, the off times you see him in public he smirks, as if he’s won over you.

She’ll keep talking to you, but gradually the phone calls lessen, there’s no silly notes or clothes left around your place, it’s as if all traces of her have been erased. She is fully absorbed by Andrew, she’ll never be yours, she never was.

Maybe you can slow her decay, but you can’t stop the inevitable.

[brinasheqrt]

Overthinking

pairings - sabrina carpenter x fem!reader

wc - 1.7k

warnings - mild angst, spiralling(?)

You tell yourself it’s fine. That people get busy. That performers on international tours probably don’t have the time to FaceTime their girlfriends every day. Or even every other day.

But when it becomes seven days—seven—with no call, not even a half-asleep voice note or a badly typed “love u,” something shifts. And your brain, ever the dramatic little gremlin that it is, decides to do what it does best:

Panic.

You’re not mad. That would be easier, cleaner, safer. You’re something worse. You’re convinced she’s slipping away.

It starts subtly, in the quiet moments.

You look at your phone a little too often. Open your messages just to stare at the last one she sent—a red heart, a week ago, after her Madrid show. You imagine her typing it fast, distracted. Maybe half-smiling. Maybe not.

Then you check her Instagram.

Bad move. Always a bad move.

She looks radiant, of course. She always does. New post from Berlin: her on stage, glitter under her eyes, hand reaching toward a sea of lights. Caption: “thank u for making my dreams real.”

Nothing about missing home. Nothing about missing you.

And that’s when your mind kicks into high gear.

Maybe she’s grown out of this. Maybe you were a good in-between. A soft place to land before the next chapter started. You, with your overthinking and your silent panics and your inability to just chill.

You hate how quickly you spiral, but there’s no stopping it now.

You sink into the couch and stare at the wall like it might blink first. It doesn’t. It’s blank. Still. Just like your phone.

You start replaying every conversation from the last few weeks. Was she distant last time you talked? Did she rush off the call? Did she sound bored? Did she stop saying “I love you” with that softness in her voice?

You remember the last call. She was in bed, face barely lit by her phone screen, eyes heavy. She smiled at you. Said she missed your voice. Said she wished you were next to her.

But maybe she didn’t mean it. Maybe she was just tired and saying what she thought you wanted to hear. Maybe the tour, the crowd, the adrenaline—it’s all more alive than you are to her now.

You’re not fun. You don’t dance like her backup singers or laugh at the right moments in interviews. You’re just here, in a quiet apartment, too many time zones away, loving her like it’s a full-time job.

Maybe that’s too much.

Maybe she needs something lighter.

You lie down sideways on the couch, blanket wrapped around you like armor. Your stomach hurts. Your chest is tight in that way it gets when your feelings outgrow your body and start pressing against your ribs, like they’re trying to break out.

You tell yourself you’re being dramatic. But that doesn’t help.

You wonder if she’s met someone new. Someone who understands the chaos of tour life. Someone beautiful and magnetic and not lying on a couch somewhere, crying into a hoodie that smells like her perfume.

You try to text her. Delete it. Try again.

You settle on: “Hey. Hope tour’s going okay.”

But you don’t send it.

It feels weak. Or maybe you do.

You end up typing and deleting so many times that your fingers go numb.

Eventually, you just stare at the wall again. White. Quiet. Unchanging.

It’s weird how loud a blank space can be.

You think about your life.

About how you used to be fine before her. Not happy, necessarily, but stable. Safe in your routines. And now? She’s rewired your entire nervous system and you don’t even know if she remembers to miss you anymore.

You think about all the people who say, “If they love you, you’ll know.”

You did know. At first. Every call, every kiss, every sleepy “baby, I don’t wanna hang up yet.” It was so clear. You never had to ask. Never had to wonder.

But now?

Now you feel like a question she hasn’t answered in days.

The wall still doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

You fall asleep at some point—restless, dreamless, curled in on yourself like a bruise.

And then your phone buzzes.

It’s 2:17 a.m.

Unknown number.

Your heart stops. Then jumps.

Voicemail.

Sabrina.

Your fingers shake as you hit play.

“Hey. Hi. Um… okay. I suck.”

She laughs, breathless and soft. The kind of laugh that only comes after running or crying or both.

“I’ve been trying to call all day and it just… didn’t happen. We had back-to-back shows and the WiFi’s garbage and my voice is gone and I miss you so much I almost cried during soundcheck.”

A pause. A long, shaky inhale.

“I know what your brain’s probably doing right now. You’re spiraling, aren’t you?”

You exhale sharply. God. She knows you.

“I hate that I let it get to this point. I hate that I disappeared. I didn’t mean to. I just—I didn’t want to call you when I only had five minutes. I wanted to really talk. But five minutes became a day, and then the days stacked up, and now it’s been a week and you probably think I don’t care.”

Another pause. Softer this time.

“I care. I love you. I love you so much it’s actually ridiculous. I’ve been falling asleep thinking about your voice, your face, the way you roll your eyes when I leave dishes in the sink.”

You smile, tears burning behind your eyes.

“I haven’t stopped loving you. Not even for a second. I just forgot how loud silence can sound when someone’s waiting on the other end.”

Her voice cracks a little.

“Please don’t let your mind tell you you’re too much. You’re perfectly much. You’re my favorite overthinker. My favorite everything.”

She exhales. “Okay, I have to go. But I’m gonna call again tomorrow. For real. We’ll talk as long as you want. Or say nothing. Whatever you need. I just… I love you. So much.”

The message ends.

And you just sit there. Staring at your phone.

The wall’s still there. Still blank. But somehow, it feels less cruel now.

You wrap the blanket tighter, curl up on the couch again, and let yourself cry.

Not because you’re broken. Not because you’re panicking.

But because someone who loves you knows what your brain does, and calls anyway.

⸻

[rhyslarsenlover]

DRIVE ME CRAZY

A RAFE CAMERON SOCIAL MEDIA AU

part one . part two . part three . masterlist

a/n: for the sake of this, let's pretend topper and sarah were never a thing, thx <3. also don't miss the golf club scene!

cw: mentions of alcohol & a fight scene. overprotective!rafe.

@ the golf club

y/n and sarah sat at a small table, their coffee cups untouched as they both tried to piece together the aftermath of the previous night.

sarah was watching her closely, her arms crossed. "so, you're telling me you didn’t kiss topper last night?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

y/n sighed, looking down into her cup. "i didn’t kiss him, sarah. i swear. i was drunk. like, really drunk. i can barely remember half of the night, but i know i didn’t kiss him."

sarah seemed to process this for a moment, then leaned in, her voice softer. "john b did mention he saw you trying to push topper off when i messaged him this morning. so you're not into him at all?"

y/n nodded quickly, her eyes darting away. "i never have been. i don’t even understand why he thought... ugh. whatever."

y/n takes out her phone, her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment longer, before sending a reply to rafe. she couldn’t help but wonder why he would suddenly be so invested in her love life. the guy who'd always acted like he hated her, who had practically bragged about making her life difficult.

y/n: this isn’t your problem, rafe. stay out of it.

before she could send it, there was a loud crash from near the golf course area. y/n looked up, and her eyes widened in shock as she saw rafe and topper squaring off. a moment later, rafe’s fist connected with topper’s jaw, sending him stumbling back with a shout.

sarah, who had been watching y/n’s phone, jumped to her feet. "what the hell?!" she exclaimed.

y/n stood up too, her heart pounding in her chest. rafe was standing over topper, fists clenched, his posture tense with fury.

“don’t ever touch her again," rafe growled, his voice low and menacing. 

topper sneered, wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth. "you think i’m scared of you, rafe? get out of my face."

"maybe you should be," rafe shot back, stepping forward, pushing topper back with a force that made the other guy stagger.

y/n couldn’t move. she was frozen, watching the scene unfold. why was rafe doing this? why was he standing up for her? they were supposed to be enemies.

topper shot a glare in y/n’s direction. “all this for some whore,” he spat, before turning on his heel and storming off, his pride clearly bruised.

rafe's eyes dulled, a chilling expression on his face. he was about to make topper’s life a living hell. then, without a word, he turned and walked toward y/n.

"are you okay?" rafe’s voice was quieter now, though there was still a harsh edge to it. his gaze warmed as it locked onto hers, waiting for an answer.

y/n felt a mix of confusion and frustration bubble up inside her. "i... what the hell was that, rafe?"

he shrugged, his jaw tight. "i don’t like seeing people take advantage of others. especially not you."

y/n couldn’t figure out whether to be grateful or pissed. "you don’t get to act like my protector, rafe. we’re not friends. you’re not even supposed to care."

he didn’t answer immediately, just stood there, eyes fixed on her with something unreadable. finally, he spoke, his voice low. "maybe i care more than you think."

with that, he turned and walked away without another word, leaving y/n standing there, heart racing, her mind spinning. what the hell just happened?

sarah came up beside her, shaking her head in disbelief. “well, if that isn’t proof that he has feelings for you, i don’t know what is,” she asked, her voice filled with a mixture of shock and amusement.

y/n shook her head, still reeling from the encounter. “he can jump off a cliff before i entertain that idea.”

taglist!!: @princesspeaxhh , @cokewithcameron , @lolasangelz , @a-sunflower-in-bloom hope u enjoy my lovelies <3

[seatheoceeanview]

Ex-boyfriend nanami, who didn't tell you the reason behind breaking up with you, only that it wasn't anything you had done. It was simply the kind of man he was.

Ex-boyfriend nanami, who never replied to your last text asking for closure after the one-sided breakup, leaving you to take the silence as an answer in and of itself.

Ex-boyfriend nanami, who you see almost two months later in public and treats you like nothing had changed, leaving you frustrated beyond belief.

Ex-boyfriend nanami, who goes out of his way to say hello to you every time your paths cross, even as you continue to say nothing back.

Ex-boyfriend nanami, who you only understand what he meant by "the kind of man he is" after you see the unwillingness to acknowledge how he broke your heart.

Ex-boyfriend nanami, whose out of the blue breakup sent you down a rabbit hole of Google searching "why did my ex blindside me?" to get some sort of closure that he would never give you himself. It leaves you reading pop psychology articles about avoidant attachment and how to move on from someone who most likely won't reach out until it's too late.

Ex-boyfriend nanami, who refuses to think about all the things he left behind when he left you, including a piece of himself he won't ever get back.

Ex-boyfriend nanami, who can't stop trying to think of a way to keep you close without having to break down his emotional walls. Without bringing you into the twisted jujutsu world, even by association.

Ex-boyfriend nanami, who knows he's being selfish, but also knows that you'll be better off without him. Or at least that's what he has to tell himself in order to not open your message thread and respond months later

Ex-boyfriend nanami, who when you ask his white-haired friend that keeps stopping by your workplace, why he would treat you this way, just tells you it's how nanami is. A closed off man hardened by a world that's cruel to people like him.

Ex-boyfriend nanami, who all of your friends hate for you because no matter how hurt you are, there's a piece of you wanting him to come back and hold you like he used to. You miss that feeling of stable warmth, like the world could be ending, and it wouldn't matter as long as you were in his arms.

Ex-boyfriend nanami, who you promise everyone you've finally moved on from, until you cross paths again and it all comes back to you.

Ex-boyfriend nanami, who is the catalyst for you to finally move overseas like you've always wanted since long distance won't be an issue if there's no relationship at all.

Ex-boyfriend nanami, who hears the news from Gojo of all people and thinks of finally saying something, anything, but still can't, won't bring you into something you should never have to understand.

Ex-boyfriend nanami, who sends you a card, the way he used to for anniversaries and your birthday, that says something about well wishes on your travels. You can't bear to read through it fully in fear of wanting to reach out again, but you keep it in your carry-on suitcase just in case.

Ex-boyfriend nanami, who was your first love and makes you think the phrase about never getting over your first love could be true.

[letorip]

clingy tara carpenter hcs?

clingy tara carpenter

idk why but i’m in a tara mood so this was definitely more fun to write. it’s more like headcanons than my normal ones just because i think it’s interesting to follow and i had lots of ideas but not necessarily following a through-line story like many of them do

you and Tara meet at Blackmore and she is instantly fixated on you. it’s something she tries to hide at first, she’s too used to being something of a cool, aloof girl

you’re friendly, kind, funny, and smart, and it feels weird— like when she’s with you, she’s finally breathing at full capacity. it’s kind of odd at first, that you cut away the facade she constantly puts up. with other people who chase her and flirt with her, it feels like breathing, but when you do it, it catches her off guard, and it makes her stumble, especially the first time

she’s always bugging asking Anika if you’re coming to hang out with them or at a party, and gets a bit disappointed whenever the answer is no. she’ll still go, since Mindy would kill her if she didn’t, but she’s way less excited than before

Tara decides to go the natural route, and see you out in public, but you don’t have the same major so you pretty much never cross paths on campus

she gets increasingly frustrated, going to back to back parties in search of you on a friday night, only to discover that your instagram story says you were actually at the library the entire time

she does the exact same thing the next day, on a saturday night, and ends up going to four parties only to find that you’re once more not even there

after giving up on that she just goes into your dms and musters enough courage after a week to finally send a message asking you to hang out

after you start dating, it’s even worse than tara thought

she needs you so so so bad, this girl is down atrocious

you’re pretty much inseparable after that point, not that tara would ever admit it. she’s not used to needing anyone ever, with sam leaving and her mom being the way she is ever

you go on a trip for a week with your family around the holidays and every night you and Tara fall asleep on the phone together, or you facetime for a while, and she’s counting down the days until you come back

she wants to know everything, and she watches with a small smile when you’re excitedly explaining how the trip is going

she picks you up from the airport with one of those cheesy signs, but she pretty much drops it and rushes into your arms, and she’s crying

she hates crying in public, but she’s missed you so much

she tells you everything about every movie she’s pretty much ever watched, sometimes as a way to help you sleep. you’re not actually completely listening, you just fall asleep better to her voice and movies are a thing she can talk about for a LOOOONG time

she’ll show you her favourites that she’s seen a million times, only instead of watching the movie, she’s watching your face and your expressions.

she tracks your location, but not because she’s suspicious of you. it’s because she’s paranoid that something could happen to you, and that’s the last thing she would want in the universe

if ghostface did ever come back, she’s the first to get you to safety. she’d definitely try the say-something-mean-to-get-you-to-leave tactic, but it wouldn’t work, and you’d just hold her, forehead to forehead while she cries about needing you and needing to keep you safe at the same time

she steals your shirts and your jackets whenever she can. it smells like you and it keeps her warm, and she’ll “accidentally” forget her jacket at home during the winter

she’s definitely a jealous person. she knows that everyone wants you and honestly she can’t blame them, but you’re hers and she wants everyone else to know. when a girl will approach you at the party that Tara brought you to, and she looks a little too comfortable, Tara will grab you by the arm and drag you hastily upstairs to claim her territory, and mark up your neck for proof

she’ll definitely be the type to deny she’s clingy. you’ll joking say “you’re so clingy” when she’s got her arms wrapped around you, and she’ll scoff and get genuinely offended by the insinuation that she needs you and clings to you

then of course she’ll want to cuddle 5 minutes later

thanks, hopefully will be posting again soon

[tikitakatia]

Escape — A. Putellas x Reader

"The Taste of Champagne"

WC: 4.3k

Summary: Your wife keeps sending you pieces of the past like they’ll make the silence feel whole again. But the present has its own anchor now, even if you still don’t know what to call it.

Pt. 1 , Pt. 2 , Pt. 3

You told yourself you weren’t going to check.

That you were fine.

That people got busy, that not every night had to be a lifeline. That silence didn’t always mean abandonment.

But the silence still sat wrong.

You curled into the corner of the couch, Tofu at your side like an emotional support loaf, and opened the app anyway.

Nothing. No message.

No “you up?”

No metaphors. No poetic confessions. No “dream soft.”

Just the last thing you’d said, still waiting at the bottom of the screen for a reply.

You set your phone down. Picked it up again less than a minute later. Scrolled back through the thread like you hadn’t memorized half of it already.

The dumb jokes. The movie arguments. The softness you hadn’t let yourself feel in months. The feeling of being held without hands and being seen without effort.

You laughed once. Quietly. At a typo from three days ago. Then immediately hated yourself for it.

Because Alexia had texted too.

Ale: I dreamt about you today. You, me, and our little gremlin child. I miss you.

And you hadn’t replied.

Not because you didn’t want to.

Because you didn’t know what version of yourself to send back.

Because every word felt dishonest now.

You kept your phone in your hand. Let it warm your palm while you stare at the app icon like it might blink on its own.

You thought about texting first.

“Hey. You there?”

“I'm sorry if I was too much.”

“Or not enough.”

You typed them all. Deleted them all.

Tofu let out a groan and rolled into your thigh. He didn't care that your heart was unraveling. He was just happy to be touching you. And god, that was the thing. That soft little weight. That simple nearness. It made you realize how long it had been since anyone had made you feel like this without asking you to earn it first.

It used to be Alexia. And now it was a stranger who didn’t even show up tonight. You stared at the blank chat window like it had betrayed you. Or maybe like you’d betrayed yourself by needing it this badly.

You closed the app. Opened it again.

Still nothing.

You poured another glass of wine. Let it sit untouched.

You didn’t cry. You just… folded. Quietly. Like a house without lights. Like something was still standing, but barely.

You fell asleep with the phone still in your hand.

Screen dimmed. No messages.  No dreams.

Just you, and a dog who loved you without knowing what you’d done.

The silence stretched for most of the day.

You didn’t check the app first thing this time. You made yourself wait. Poured coffee. Fed Tofu. Stared at the fridge like it might open a portal out of your body.

The couch felt colder without a new message waiting. You didn’t say that out loud. You answered Alexia’s latest text about Tofu’s vet appointment. One word. Then muted the thread.

By 4PM, you were fully spiraling again. Quietly. Calmly. With the intensity of someone trying very hard to not care.

And then..

Buzz.

[go4goald2]: I AM SO SORRY. I didn´t mean to disappear. Work exploded, I didn't even breathe properly for like 36 hours.

You didn’t realize you’d exhaled until you saw the message and your body unclenched.

[go4goald2]: I missed you. Stupidly. Even though it’s just a screen. Is that pathetic?

You smiled.

[lostinthecrowd]: Only if I'm pathetic too.

Pause. Then:

[go4goald2]: Deal! We’ll be pathetic together.

The laugh that slipped out felt like relief. Like letting yourself come up for air after holding it too long.

[lostinthecrowd]: I know it’s dumb but… I was worried. I thought maybe I pushed too far.

[go4goald2]: NO. Not at all. Ugh, never. I wanted to be here. I just couldn’t be.

There was something about that phrasing, “wanted to be”, that sat warm and bittersweet in your chest.

You typed:

[lostinthecrowd]: I’m glad you’re back.

[go4goald2]: Me too.

And just like that, the air in the apartment shifted. Tofu hopped up beside you and flopped onto his back like the drama queen he was, one paw flung dramatically over his chest. You scratched his belly absently, phone still warm in your hand.

You weren’t stupid. You knew this was complicated.

But right now? It was simple.

They were back. And you weren’t alone.

It was late morning, Tofu chewing the corner of a throw pillow when your phone buzzed.

[go4goald2]: Quick: Favorite smell in the world. Go.

You grinned.

[lostinthecrowd]: Clean laundry. Toasted bread. Alexia’s shampoo

You froze. Backspaced.

[lostinthecrowd]: Uh laundry. Bread. Books. Not necessarily in that order.

[go4goald2]: Weak answer, mine’s rain hitting hot pavement. Also, movie theater popcorn. Cleaning products too.

[lostinthecrowd]: You’re such a freak. I respect it.

[go4goald2]: Thank you. Your turn. Favorite feeling?

You thought for a second.

[lostinthecrowd]: When someone reaches for me first.

You didn’t expect to send that. It just came out.

The reply took longer this time.

[go4goald2]: That’s a good one. That’s a really, really good one.

You looked down at Tofu, who had abandoned his pillow and was now curled against your shin. You reached down and scratched behind his ears.

Your phone buzzed again, but this time, not Chattr.

Alexia.

You almost ignored it. Almost.

But the preview caught your eye.

Ale: Check the front door.

You frowned, got up and opened it.

And there it was.

A small box, neatly wrapped in butcher paper. No card. Just your name scrawled on the top in handwriting you knew by muscle memory. You went back to the couch and opened it.

Inside?

An old photo.

The two of you at the beach years ago, sunburned and beaming, your face scrunched mid-laugh, her hand on your back, sunglasses crooked on her nose. One of your favorites. One you thought was lost.

And behind it, folded carefully was a note.

I know I can’t undo the space between us. But I remember this day like it just happened. And I still want to be the person who made you smile like that.

– A.

You stared at it for a long time.

Then your chest cracked open.

You didn’t know what came over you. Maybe it was the photo. Maybe the memory. Maybe the way her handwriting still looked like a promise you weren’t sure you could believe.

Whatever it was, when you started crying, you couldn’t stop. Couldn’t even breathe properly. The kind of crying that feels ancient. Like grief that finally got tired of being patient. Tofu lay down beside you, warm and solid, his chin on your knee like he knew there was nothing to fix, just something to witness.

At some point, the tears stopped. Or maybe you just ran out of them. You must’ve fallen asleep, curled on the couch, the photo still in your lap, the blanket wrapped too tightly around your shoulders.

When you woke, the light had shifted and your phone screen was glowing softly beside you.

Chattr.

Three unread messages.

[go4goald2]: Hey.

[go4goald2]: Everything okay?

[go4goald2]: Kinda worried, you disappeared.

You started typing quickly.

[lostinthecrowd]: Sorry I was gone. Got distracted by a very needy puppy.

[lostinthecrowd]: Also, someone reminded me of a version of myself I forgot. It kinda hurts.

[go4goald2]: Maybe that means it still matters.

You didn’t answer because for the first time in a long time, you weren’t sure who you were supposed to open your heart to.

Later that evening, after the sun dipped low and the apartment turned lavender and quiet, you sent a text to Alexia. Just one.

“Thanks for the photo. I didn’t know you still had it.”

You expected a delay. A simple “you’re welcome” or a heart emoji. 

Instead:

Ale: I almost deleted it once. Felt too far away from who we are now. But I couldn’t. I think I always hoped it would still mean something to you.

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Not really. So instead, you opened the fridge, fed the dog, and sat on the kitchen floor like it was the only place that didn’t feel too full of ghosts.

Later, when your fingers weren’t shaking quite so much, you sent another.

“It does. I don’t know what to do with that. But it does.”

Alexia didn’t reply right away. But she didn’t ghost either. She sent a picture of her hotel dinner tray: dry chicken, too much parsley.

Ale: Can I still be someone who knows how you like your food?

It was the softest thing she’d said in weeks. Maybe months.

You let your forehead rest against the cabinet door behind you, Tofu already half-asleep against your thigh.

And then, because you were already mid-collapse, you opened Chattr.

The screen lit up like it had missed you.

[go4goald2]: How’s your night?

You hesitated. For the first time in a while, you hesitated.

But then:

[lostinthecrowd]: Complicated. But less lonely than it used to be.

You didn't mention Alexia. You didn’t have to.

The guilt was already pulling at your ribcage like an anchor.

But god, it felt easy with them. Still.

[go4goald2]: Tofu still chewing everything you love?

[lostinthecrowd]: Yes, including my will to live.

[go4goald2]: What an icon.

You smiled. You couldn't help it.

Then, half on a whim, half because your chest felt too full:

[lostinthecrowd]: Do you like piña coladas?

A beat.

[go4goald2]: …Getting caught in the rain?

You snorted.

[lostinthecrowd]: God, those two idiots could’ve just talked to each other instead of writing anonymous ads in the newspaper.

[go4goald2]: Maybe it’s easier to be honest when no one’s looking at you.

That one stung a little more than it should have.

But you didn’t say that. You just typed:

[lostinthecrowd]: Yeah. Maybe that’s the point of strangers. You get to tell the truth without the weight of history.

There was a pause. Then:

[go4goald2]: But what happens when the stranger starts to feel like the only place that feels like home?

You stared at the screen. You didn’t answer right away.

Not because you didn’t know what to say.

But because you felt it hit bone.

What happens when the stranger starts to feel like home?

You locked your phone. Set it face down on the couch. And suddenly, it was too quiet.

You got up. Washed a cup that didn’t need washing. Fed Tofu again even though his bowl was still half full. You moved like someone trying not to be found guilty of something that hadn’t quite happened yet.

And then, because your heart was beating too loud and your head was full of words that didn’t feel like yours, you opened the other thread.

Alexia’s.

There was a message waiting. Not a follow-up, not a guilt trip. Just a photo. She was crouched on the curb outside a café, still in her training kit, flushed and tired, her hair half-pulled back and falling out at the sides. She held a coffee in one hand, giving the camera a crooked, almost shy grin. Not the kind she gave to the press. Just the one you remembered. The text below reads “I found the only place here that serves oat milk and didn’t judge me for asking for extra cinnamon. Thought you’d be proud.”

You stared at it longer than you meant to. That version of her, the soft one, the real one, was hard to look at. Because that was the one you’d loved before everything got hard.

Somewhere down the hall, Tofu barked. One sharp, accusatory yelp. You went to check, and there he was on the bed, standing on your pillow like it was a podium, chewing on the strap of your favorite canvas tote bag with the determination of someone proving a point. You sighed and snapped a photo before pulling the bag out of his mouth. Then, without thinking too hard, you sent it to Alexia with the caption: “He’s got your energy, swear to god.”

Her response came almost instantly. 

Ale: So you’re saying he’s our tiny, unhinged child? Because I accept that.

And you laughed. Out loud. Small and surprised.

“He’s feral,” you wrote back. 

“Completely untrainable. He bites my slippers and stares me down like he’s the main character.”

Ale: So me? 

She said, just two words, soft and certain.

You paused. Then typed: Basically.

Tofu returned to the couch like a conquering hero and flopped into your lap, warm and heavy and unbothered. You rested your hand lightly on his back. He sighed like he owned the apartment.

Another ping.

Ale: I don’t want to push you..

Ale: I just miss laughing with you. Like this. Like… us.

You didn’t reply right away. But you didn’t leave either. You sat there with your hand on the back of the stupid, soft dog she gave you, and let yourself imagine what it might feel like to try again.

Not all at once. Not completely.

Just… maybe.

The next morning, the apartment was still. Not quite like emptiness, just calm. Like the kind of silence that comes after the crying is done and the air is finally still enough to breathe.

You didn’t open Chattr right away.

It wasn’t on purpose.

You just… didn’t.

Instead, you made coffee. Not in a rush, not distracted. Real coffee. You even took the time to add a little sprinkle of cinnamon. You pretended like you weren’t sure why.

Tofu padded across the tile, sleepy and dragging his favorite destroyed sock behind him like a war trophy. You let him curl up at your feet while you answered a few emails. Sent a few messages, one of them to Alexia.

She’d texted something small. A picture of a storefront, hand-painted signs and soft yellow curtains in the window. 

Ale: Saw this and thought of you. You used to say you wanted a bookshop with plants in the windows and a dog under the desk.

You didn’t overthink it. Just typed: 

“Still do.”

Her reply came back fast. 

Ale: Maybe one day. I’ll be the one getting distracted and forgetting to charge the register.

You smiled gently, and let the moment stretch. It wasn’t intense. It wasn’t a grand gesture. But it felt… safe. Familiar. Like brushing fingers across something that used to be yours.

Around late morning, your phone buzzed again. Another message from her.

Ale: Please witness this.

Attached was a photo of a small white dog in a violently pink sweater. Hooded and with pom-poms dangling from the ends and a sparkly “PRINCESS” across the back in rhinestones. The dog looked vaguely furious. Possibly plotting something.

You choked on your coffee.

“Tofu’s cousin from the wrong side of the tracks.”

Ale: Tofu’s cousin from the drama school.

“That dog has a diary and writes about the betrayal.”

Ale: They have a publicist and a spray tan appointment.

The laugh that came out of you was too loud and sudden. Tofu startled and made an offended noise, then immediately climbed into your lap like how dare you forget I’m the star here. You scratched his head without thinking and smiled into your mug.

It was easy, that exchange. Stupid and good. And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you were holding your breath talking to her.

It wasn’t until almost noon that you finally checked Chattr.

The message had come in last night. A quiet ping, nothing dramatic.

[go4goald2]: Sleep well?

You stared at it for a few seconds too long. Then typed:

[lostinthecrowd]: Eventually.

There was no follow-up right away. You didn’t mind.

Later, when Tofu knocked over your water bottle trying to dive headfirst into your laundry basket, you laughed. Not as hard as yesterday. But still.

You picked up your phone without thinking and opened the last thread, not Chattr.

“He’s trying to sleep in the dryer now. This is your fault.”

Ale: He takes after his mother.

You didn’t know which one of you she meant. You didn’t ask.

The day passed gently. Not in a blur, just soft. Tofu snored on your lap during a bad movie. And somewhere in your other inbox, the typing bubble came and went.

You didn’t check it until much later. And when you did, your chest tugged. Not a lot. Just enough to remind you it still mattered. That it still made you feel something.

But today, you weren’t looking for complicated.

Because for the first time in a awhile, Alexia wasn’t making things worse.

It was only hours later that you opened Chattr again.

No wine. No candles. No desperate breath held in your throat. Just Tofu snoring on your feet and the last half of a very mediocre rom-com on TV.

Still, the message was already waiting.

[go4goald2]: What’s your take on fruit in salad. Violently opposed or live laugh love?

You smiled. Automatically.

[lostinthecrowd]: Depends on the fruit. Mango is elite. Strawberries are okay. Grapes are war crimes.

[go4goald2]: I feel like that last one came from personal trauma. Did someone hurt you with a grape once?

[lostinthecrowd]: Maybe someone I loved trusted a raisin salad once and now I have trust issues.

There was a pause. Not long. Just enough to feel like breathing space.

[go4goald2]: I like it when you joke. makes me feel like you’re here with me.

Your fingers hovered over the keys. Usually, you'd have said something dumb in return. Or maybe something soft.

But tonight, your chest stayed quiet.

[lostinthecrowd]: Long day. Sorry if I’m quiet.

[go4goald2]: Don’t apologize. I just miss you a little, that’s all.

You stared at that one.

Because you knew what it meant.

Not big love, not declarations. Just… absence. Noticing.

[lostinthecrowd]: I'm still here.

You meant it. Even if it didn’t feel as loud as before.

Tofu shuffled in his sleep. You looked down at him: messy, needy, entirely your responsibility now, and thought, briefly, about how you´re starting to let Alexia back in.

Not fully.

Not all the way.

But enough that you noticed the difference when it came time to talk to someone else.

The next message blinked through.

[go4goald2]: Tell me something good about today, even if it’s small.

You hesitated. Then typed:

[lostinthecrowd]: A dog in a sweater made me laugh.

You didn’t mention it came from your wife. You didn’t have a reason to.

[go4goald2]: That’s good. I hope it was a ridiculous sweater.

[lostinthecrowd]: It was, had pompoms.

You let the conversation fade after that because something in your chest felt tangled. And you weren’t ready to unravel it yet.

The next day started with a video. A short one, blurry and too zoomed-in, but unmistakably Alexia’s voice narrating the sky. “You always said this was the best part of the day,” she said quietly. “I never used to get it. But I do now.” You watched it twice. Then three times. Her voice was still low and sleepy in the background, not performing, not polished. Just real, it even cracked a little when she said your name.

Then came the photo of the market: a fruit stand draped in fabric, oranges piled high, a dog curled under a chair in the sun. “You’d love it here,” she wrote. “They sell those weird dried apricots you always made me carry in my bag.” You smiled at your phone and hated yourself for it.

Tofu barked at the wall like he’d seen a ghost and then flopped over like he’d solved the mystery of grief. You rubbed the spot between his ears and stared at the screen. Didn’t reply. Not yet.

Alexia followed up an hour later. A selfie. Hair tied back, sunglasses on her head, a little smudge of something across her cheek like she hadn’t noticed it yet. The caption read: Bought a keychain with Tofu’s face on it. I’m either losing it or trying really hard to make up for being the worst. Probably both.

You laughed, quiet and unexpected.

Your thumb hovered. Then tapped out:

“Let me see the keychain.”

She sent it immediately. Tofu’s dumb little gremlin face stretched across a tiny acrylic oval. His eyes looked wild. His ears crooked.

Ale: He looks like he’s about to ask for financial compensation.

You grinned. You actually grinned.

And then immediately felt sick about it.

Because it felt good. Because she felt familiar.

Because it was easy again.

And that terrified you.

You responded slower this time:

“He’s a menace. I caught him dragging a towel into the shower today. He stared me down the entire time.”

Ale: Ha, asserting his dominance. I support it.

You didn’t answer. Not because you didn’t want to. God, you did. But because suddenly, your phone felt heavy. Like two versions of yourself were fighting for the same spot inside your chest.

You opened Chattr.

The last unread message sat there waiting.

[go4goald2]: You good today? Haven’t heard from you.

The timestamp was hours ago.

You locked your phone and set it on the coffee table. Then turned your attention to Tofu, who was currently attempting to scale the couch arm like a mountain goat. You reached out and caught him mid-fall. He blinked up at you like you were the center of the universe.

You wished the decision was that simple.

The message came mid-morning. You weren’t expecting it, not because she didn’t text anymore, she's gotten a little bit better at it, but because this one was different. Thoughtful. Preemptive. The kind of message Alexia would’ve sent years ago, before the silences, before the one-word replies.

Ale: Things are about to get a little busy over here cariño, travel, press, media stuff. I might go quiet for a few days. Didn’t want you to think I was ignoring you.

You sat with it. The softness. The effort.

Then another message blinked through.

Ale: There’s a package on the way. Nothing huge. Just… some things I thought might make your week easier.

You blinked. Stared. Didn’t respond right away. Then:

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Her reply came fast.

Ale: I know. That’s kind of the point.

Later that afternoon, the package arrived. Small and neatly packed.

Inside: A blanket she knew you always stole from her side of the bed that smelled like her. A bag of your favorite snacks, the obscure brand that’s only sold in like, two stores. A new chew toy for Tofu shaped like a dinosaur. A handwritten note.

Just in case the couch gets lonely. And so Tofu stops trying to eat your socks. I love you.

— A. 

Your throat went tight.

You didn’t text her right away. Couldn’t.

Not because it wasn’t kind. But because it was.

Tofu immediately attacked the toy as you sat on the edge of the couch, blanket over your lap, pretending you weren’t unraveling.

You didn’t mean to open Chattr. You really didn’t.

The apartment was quiet again and Alexia’s absence had left behind that weird echo of effort. Her blanket still folded neatly on the couch after you spent hours cuddled in it, the new toy Tofu had already half-destroyed. The note from the package had been tucked away in a drawer like a secret you weren’t ready to let go of, but also couldn’t look at too long.

You told yourself you were just going to scroll. Just going to peek.

But the message was already waiting.

[go4goald2]: Okay, critical question. If you could only keep one: garlic bread or fresh-out-the-dryer hoodies?

You smiled before you even realized it. Your fingers moved without thinking.

[lostinthecrowd]: Wow, cruel and unusual punishment.

[go4goald2]: I never said this game was fair. Pick one, coward.

[lostinthecrowd]: Hoodies, because I can survive emotional starvation but not physical cold.

[go4goald2]: Okay poet, calm down.

You laughed. Quiet and genuine.

Tofu yawned loudly, then climbed into your lap like he belonged there. You reached for your wine and settled in, heart beating a little softer than it had all day.

[go4goald2]: What’s something that always makes you feel better during your tough days?

You thought about it. Then typed:

[lostinthecrowd]: Dumb sitcom bloopers. You?

[go4goald2]: Videos of raccoons stealing food and running away like they know they’ve committed a crime.

That made you snort into your glass.

There was a pause after that. A few minutes where neither of you said anything. Then you typed, slower now.

[lostinthecrowd]: My wife’s trying. Like… actually trying. And I don’t know what to do with that.

Silence.

You wished you hadn’t sent it. You wished you could take it back.

Then the typing bubble appeared.

[go4goald2]: That’s a lot. Do you want to talk about it?

You hesitated.

Then:

[lostinthecrowd]: She sent me a blanket. Some snacks. A toy for the dog. Told me she’d be busy, but didn’t want me to feel alone. And it’s like… All the things I used to need from her. And now they’re here. and I'm just…

You stopped typing. Started again.

[lostinthecrowd]: I'm scared to trust it. I want to. I just don’t know if it’s real this time. And if it is, I don't know what that says about me because maybe I've changed too much to go back.

The response didn’t come right away.

When it did, it was simple.

[go4goald2]: You don’t have to go back. Maybe the person you are now deserves something forward.

You froze.

Because god. That felt like the truth.

[go4goald2]: And whatever happens, the version of you right now? She’s enough. Even if you’re scared. Even if you’re unsure. You’re still someone worth showing up for.

Your eyes burned before you could stop them. You didn’t even know what you were crying for. The effort? The loss? The fact that it felt so good to be seen, and so awful not to know where you belonged anymore?

Tofu snuffled in his sleep beside you. You wiped your cheek and typed:

[lostinthecrowd]: Thanks. I think I needed to hear that.

[go4goald2]: Then I’m glad I said it. I mean it.

You stared at the screen long after the message stopped glowing.

You didn’t know who this person was.

But they made you feel like maybe you weren’t breaking everything by trying to hold both things at once.

Pt. 5